


a moment of transition

by diana_hawthorne (dhawthorne)



Series: Private Lives [29]
Category: Homicide: Life on the Street, Law & Order
Genre: College, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 108,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhawthorne/pseuds/diana_hawthorne
Summary: Caroline Olivet starts her first semester at Yale.Starts in September 2017.This is a WIP Big Bang 2019 Fic.afteriwakemade a beautiful fanmix for this fic! It can be foundhere!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Sheila Kohler's book _Becoming Jane Eyre_.
> 
> I didn't go to Yale, so please forgive any glaring errors. As any good author should, I did do some research, but as that mostly consisted of trawling Wikipedia and watching Gilmore Girls, I'm not sure how accurate it is ;)

It’s only her second week at Yale and everything is already harder than she expected. She’s used to rising to the top of the class with little effort; here, everyone was the top of their class in school and she needs to _work_ to keep her class standing. She didn’t expect this. The twins never told her anything about this, but then they wouldn’t. Her cousins are taking “Rocks for Jocks” and keeping up their required GPA with all-nighters before exams, secure in their placement on the tennis team for their status at school. Even Eliza didn’t warn her about it, but then Eliza had always been a diligent worker, completing assignments as they were assigned instead of putting them off to go to a party.

It was different at Farmington. She and Eliza were both prefects and they used to creep down the hall after curfew to review together. She was far better at languages and writing papers than Eliza, who was more math-brained than she. They were a perfect pair. But Yale isn’t like that. She’s taking totally different classes than Eliza and doesn’t have her guidance to rely upon any more. She’s finding it difficult to make friends for the first time in her life. She‘d always had the girls she grew up with at Chapin, and when she went to Farmington she had Eliza, of course, and then the daughters of her mother’s friends. Now, yes, she has her cousins--Eliza, Oliver, and Tucker--but they are absorbed into their own lives. She’s only seen Oliver and Tucker briefly at a party, where they waved to her but went back to their own group almost immediately. They‘re not going to spend their time on a freshman, no matter that she’s their cousin.

She’s seen Eliza three times, for lunch and for two dinners, but they live on different parts of campus and their class schedules barely allow them time to see each other. Eliza’s taking late classes this year, and has Fridays off, so she can cram her Friday with work for her independent study.

She has nothing in common with her suitemates, a girl from Idaho named Jenny who talks only about her father’s cattle ranch and a girl from Minnesota named Ashley. She’s an accomplished enough rider, but she knows nothing about cows and Jenny’s only other topic of conversation, at the moment, is skiing in Sun Valley. She’s only talked with Ashley once, their first night. She’s a blond of average height and has three older siblings. After their first night exchanging life stories, they haven’t had much else to talk about. They are both nice, but they‘ll never be friends.

And annoyingly Jenny and Ashley have already made friends with each other and three girls down the hall. They‘ve made no effort to include her in their study group and when they go for lunch and dinner, so she’s forced to either go to the dining hall alone or get takeout or something from the grab-and-go so that she doesn’t look like a total loser. At least she has the single room in her suite.

She has one or two acquaintances from Farmington who are also at Yale, but although they have a group text saying “omg we totally have to meet up!” they haven’t managed to do so either, and she doesn’t want to be the one pushing for it.

She needs to put herself out there, but she doesn’t quite know how. Isn’t college supposed to be the best time of her life? Her grandparents are paying tens of thousands of dollars for her to learn and enjoy herself, and right now she’s doing nothing of either. How the hell is she supposed to fake enjoyment during their weekly dinners? Luckily she’s managed to put her grandparents and parents off, claiming that she’s still adjusting during this first month, but time is running out and she definitely can’t keep dodging their phone calls forever.

So with all of this hanging over her it’s no wonder she’s running late for her second Physical Anthropology recitation. She makes it into the classroom thirty seconds before the bell rings and plops herself down in the closest available chair, next to a tall girl with violently red, curly hair.

‘Now that everyone’s here,’ her TA, a pimply man in his mid-twenties, says snarikly, ‘we can begin.’ She catches her seatmate’s eye as the redhead rolls them exaggeratedly; she has to bite back a laugh. Maybe she‘ll become a friend… ‘We will be working on dominant and recessive alleles today. Pair up with another classmate. I‘ll be handing out lists of dominant and recessive traits and you and your partner will work out who has what traits. After that, you will determine your parents‘ dominant and recessive alleles. Remember, if you have a dominant trait, one or both of your parents must also have that trait.

Her neighbor turns to her as soon as the TA stops talking.

‘D‘you want to partner with me? I’m Annie.’

She can’t prevent the slight giggle escaping her, and Annie laughs too.

‘I know, I could murder my parents. My mother loves that musical.’

‘I’m Caroline,’ she tells her, and smiles. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too. Are you a freshman too? I’m in Morse, in Durfee.’

‘Yes, me too! I’m on the fifth floor.’

‘I’m on four. Are you sharing a suite or do you have a single?’

‘I’m sharing a suite but I have the single, thank goodness.’

Annie laughs. ‘Me too. I’m not used to sharing a room and I think I‘d lose it if I had to share one here.’

‘I went to boarding school but I had a single last year, so I’m glad to have a single again.’

‘I always wanted to go to boarding school! My parents weren’t having it, though. They‘re having a tough enough time with me living here and they live outside of Boston. They were pissed when I picked Yale over Harvard.’

Okay, enough bragging,’ their TA says, slapping two lists down in front of them. ‘Get started.’

‘So, should we fill our own out, as much as we can? And then compare before doing our parents‘?’ she asks tentatively, suddenly shy again.

‘Sounds good,’ Annie says.

Caroline looks down at her sheet. It has a list of traits in one column, the second column says what is dominant and recessive, and the following three columns have lists for “self, mother, and father.” There are ten traits listed and then a row for blood type. 

She fills them out easily--shape of face, oval; cleft chin, no; widow’s peak, yes; dimples, yes; earlobes, attached; eye shape, almond; freckles, yes; and so on. She mostly has dominant alleles, she notes, except for her earlobes, as attached earlobes are recessive. It’s interesting. She writes down her blood type, AB+, and looks over at Annie.

‘I’m mostly recessive,’ she says, brandishing her sheet. ‘What about you, Caroline?’

‘Mostly dominant,’ she replies. ’should we start on our parents?’

‘Sure. I’m going to have to try to find a picture on my phone of them, though--how am I supposed to remember if my mother has attached earlobes or not?’

She laughs. ‘Good idea. I‘ll do the same.’

She pulls up a picture of her mother first; that’s easy. She fills out her mother’s traits: shape of face, oval; cleft chin, no; widow’s peak, no; dimples, yes; earlobes, attached; eye shape, almond; freckles, yes, and so on. She knows her mother’s blood type is B+ and her father’s is O+, but that’s about all she knows of his traits.

It’s harder to find a picture of her father as she has none on her phone; she resorts to Google and finds his author’s headshot on his publisher’s website and fills out his column. Shape of face, square; cleft chin, no; widow’s peak, no; dimples, no; earlobes, detached; eye shape, round; freckles, no, et cetera.

She stops after she finishes filling out her father’s column and stares, then looks back quickly at the column that says what’s dominant and what’s recessive. She then opens the camera on her phone and looks quickly at her reflection. She still has a widow’s peak, a dominant trait. Neither her mother nor her father have a widow’s peak. Yes, her father is bald, but--she saw an older photo of him on Google too, when he still had his hair, and no, nothing. And the blood type… it says at the bottom of the worksheet that if a child’s bloodtype is AB, then A and B have to come from a parent. She couldn’t have AB as her blood type if her father has an O blood type.

‘Are you okay?’ Annie asks suddenly. ‘You‘ve gone all white.’

She forces a smile, tearing her eyes away from her worksheet. ‘Yes, fine. Did you finish yours?’

‘Yes, I just did. It looks like I got about half from my mom and half from my dad.’

‘I got most of them from my mother,’ she says. ‘But then I look just like her.’

‘Can I see a picture?’ Annie asks, and she obliges, pulling up a picture of her mother at her graduation in June. ’she’s beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies, trying to break out of the numbness that has set in.

‘What about your dad?’

‘Oh, they‘re divorced. My dad lives in Paris.’

‘Paris! You‘re so lucky! Do you get to visit often?’ She doesn’t respond, her mind caught again on the fact that her father wasn’t her father. ‘I’m sorry, I put my foot in it.’

‘Oh, please, it’s not anything to worry about--I was just thinking,’ she says at last, forcing herself to look at her new acquaintance. ‘Um, I visit him about once a year, for a month or so in the summer. I love Paris. It’s been good practice for my French.’

‘Lucky you! Do you know what you want to major in? I took Anthropology classes in high school, so I was thinking Anthro--’

She lets herself tune out Annie as she tries to figure out what to do next. She doesn’t have any more classes for today, and she knows Eliza has finished early today too. She‘ll probably be in her dorm or in the library and she needs to see her right now, she needs to figure this out--

‘...grab a coffee? I’m finished for today.’

She shakes her head as she emerges from her thoughts. ‘Um, can I take a rain check? I need to go meet with my cousin for some help with my math class homework--maybe we can go to dinner together?’

‘Okay,’ Annie agrees easily. ‘Let me give you my cell.’

The bell rings just as they finish exchanging numbers; she shoves her books back in her bag and breezes past the TA, texting Eliza on the way.

 _Need to talk to you NOW ASAP_ she writes. _Where R U?_

Eliza’s response is gratifyingly quick. _Maths lib. Where R U? Meet u outside._

_Coming from Anthro. See you in 5._

She’s never walked so quickly in her life. By the time she gets to the library--closer to 10 minutes than 5, she’s been held up by crowds of people--Eliza is waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, scanning the paths to the library worriedly.

‘What is it?’ she says when they finally get close enough to speak.

‘Not here,’ she tells her cousin. ‘We need to talk someplace private.’

‘Let’s walk, then. It’s the second week of class, the library’s totally full.’

‘Okay.’

She waits until they‘re nowhere near anywhere else before she says, ‘We did this dominant and recessive traits list today in my Anthro recitation. And we had to fill it out for ourselves and our parents. My TA said that if we had a dominant trait that one of our parents had to have that trait too. We also did a blood type analysis. Anyway, my father doesn’t have a widow’s peak and his blood type is O+, which means he can’t be my father.’

Eliza stops abruptly and stares at her. ‘Caro--are you sure?’

She nods glumly. ‘I’m sure. It’s just--who knows about this? Does he know? Is that why he never liked me?’

Her cousin doesn’t bother to refute her statement; they both remember that Christmas when they overheard her parents arguing, her father saying he‘d not wanted another child. It’s a statement that’s been borne out over the years of disinterest. But she doesn’t think he knew. If he did, he would have divorced her mother years ago. She says as much to her cousin, who nods.

‘I don’t know who your mother would have told, if she didn’t tell you. Not Aunt Isobel and Uncle Nick. Maybe my mother?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

Eliza hesitates for a long moment before saying, ‘Do you think that Mike--‘

It falls into place in an instant. Mike--of course it was Mike. The only man her mother had ever loved… it made sense. Oh. Oh, it made so much sense. They‘d been trying to find their way back to each other for years, she knew, even if she didn’t know what had happened to break them up in the first place. Mike--her mother had had an affair, then. She takes a moment to absorb that fact but even though it’s wrong, of course it’s wrong, she can’t blame her. As long as she’s been alive she’s dealt with the fact that her parents‘ marriage was strained. Her father barely spent any time with them, and so--why should she blame her mother for looking for happiness?

She slings her bag over her shoulder, pulls out her phone, and pulls up a picture of Mike. Yes, _there_ , she sees it, sees the widow’s peak and the way their eyebrows arch the same and his smile--it’s like hers. She shows the photo to Eliza, and her quiet gasp is all the confirmation she needs.

‘How do you--feel?’ Eliza asks.

‘I don’t know. I mean--at least he cares about me.’ It’s true. And if she’s learned anything in the seven years her mother and stepfather--father--have been married, it’s that he loves her. And that sometimes, he just doesn’t know how to respond. Like that time at the Boat Pond--if he knew she was his daughter--he couldn’t admit to himself or to her how much he wanted to be a part of their lives because he couldn’t trust himself not to screw it up the way he‘d done in the past. He was a part of her life when she was a baby. She’s seen the photos and has a few fuzzy memories, even if her mother has never told her anything about those times. But--were they ever going to tell her? And how will she tell them she knows?

‘He loves you,’ Eliza says gently. ‘He’s always loved you like a father.’

‘I guess because he is.’

‘I guess.’ There’s a long pause. ‘Um, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to your mom?’

She shrugs. ‘I want to think about it more first. But she and Mike were planning to come up and visit this weekend, so maybe we can talk about it then.’

Her cousin nods. ‘Let me know if you want to talk before you talk to them. Or if you want some support during their visit.’

She nods and then gives her cousin a hug. They‘ve resumed walking and have reached Eliza’s dorm. 

‘Do you want to come up? We could have dinner together.’

She shakes her head. ‘I just need some time to think.’

‘Okay. But call me if you need to talk, okay? Any time. I’m there.’

‘I know. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

After one last hug, Eliza heads up to her room and she heads back to Durfee. Neither of her suitemates are there, thank God, so she heads into her room and closes the door. 

She loves her room and she’s only been living here for two weeks. It’s large for a single and airy. She and her mother and stepfather--father--she supposes she can just say "parents" now--had lugged her things up to the fifth floor, not only clothes and books but also curtains for her windows, a Beni Ouhrain rug from her great-aunt and great-uncle’s recent trip to Morocco, a new mattress, and a slipper chair and matching ottoman.

"You might want to have friends in here, and that way you‘ll have somewhere else to sit," her mother argued persuasively when she asked if she really needed a chair and ottoman. She‘d given in but hadn’t had a chance to have friends over yet, just Eliza. Nevertheless, it was a cozy spot to sit and read at night after she closed the curtains. And the ottoman’s cushion lifted out so that she could store alcohol there without any RA’s finding it. 

The daily trek up five flights of stairs was worth it for the view and her large room. She has paneled walls, a built-in bookshelf, and a beautiful wide window seat. That’s where she heads now, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag on the floor before flinging herself onto the cushioned window seat. She peers out the window, watching as people walk by, people whose lives haven’t changed forever because of a stupid recitation assignment. 

She watches the quad grow dim as the sun begins to set and finally drags herself to answer her beeping phone. It’s a text from Annie.

_Want to grab dinner at 7?_

_Sounds good_ , she texts back. _Where do you want to meet?_

_I‘ll come up to your room. What’s the number?_

_Suite 5-G_ , she texts, then looks at the time. She has an hour and a half--time to shower and change.

She’s glad that each suite has their own bathroom. Sharing with the floor is fine, she’s done it for the past four years, and while there is another communal bathroom on the floor it’s so nice to have their own space. She’s still the only one home, so she takes her time showering, relaxing and trying not to think about today.

After she gets out of the shower, she wraps her hair up in a towel to dry it and sits down at her desk to turn on some music while she gets dressed. When she opens the laptop, an email notification pops up. It’s an email from her mother; she opens it. 

Subject: this weekend  
From: lizolivet@gmail.com  
To: caroline.olivet@gmail.com

Hi sweetheart,

We can’t wait to see you this weekend! We will aim to be up around 11. I thought we could take you and any of your friends you‘d like to invite out to lunch and we could have dinner together as a family. Why don’t you pick a place? We‘ll be staying at the Omni Hotel, so close by.

Please let me know if we can bring you anything from home. Bagels and gravlax from Russ & Daughters, maybe? We‘re driving so we can bring whatever you‘d like. We can’t wait to see you. We love you!

Love,  
Mom

She sighs when she reads the email. She does know that they love her, but... how is she going to talk to them about it? She has so many questions and she needs answers. 

Making a concerted effort to set these thoughts aside, she closes the email and clicks on Spotify. She puts on some Crosby, Stills, and Nash, finishes towel-drying her hair, and then turns to her closet to figure out what to wear. 

Even though it’s only the second week of her first semester she’s put an effort into dressing well, albeit casually. It’s important to look one’s best always, something that’s been hammered into her by her grandmother. And she wants to look good for dinner tonight too to make a good impression on her new potential friend. 

She finally decides on a nice pair of jeans and this fantastic boat neck t shirt she bought in Paris last summer. It’s the ideal light blue and drapes perfectly. She has no idea what it’s made of but after wearing it the first time she wrote to her friend Isabelle de Montigny and had her send five more in different colors.

Thank God for Isabelle. If only she had decided to apply for schools in the States! But it makes sense for her to stay in France. The Sorbonne is just as good and she‘ll finish in three years, not four. At least they‘ll have the summer--she’s going down to Hyères with them again after her stay with her father--

Oh. Oh, right. Well, maybe she‘ll just spend her trip with the Montignys, then.

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes comes to an end and she checks the time. Ten more minutes. Her hair is finally dry, so she brushes it out quickly and pulls it back into a loose bun. She doesn’t wear any jewelry except her class ring and a pair of pearl studs. With one final look in the mirror, she smiles and opens her door so that she can hear when Annie knocks. 

Her suitemates are just coming into the common room from the hallway as she props her door open. 

‘Hi Caroline,’ Jenny says. ‘How are you?’

She forces a smile. ‘I’m fine, How are you two?’

‘Fine,’ Ashley says in response.

‘We‘re just going to dinner,’ Jenny says, and pauses before she asks, ‘would you like to join us?’

While she does want to take them up on literally their only offer to spend time with them, just for the principle of it, she’s already made plans. ‘I actually am waiting for a friend of mine from my Anthro class. She should be here in a minute. But could I take a rain check, please?’

‘Sure,’ Jenny says, effusively friendly all at once. She’s probably relieved that she won’t have her spare suite mate tagging along, she thinks uncharitably.

She just manages to refrain from sighing as she realizes it’s her turn to make conversation. ‘How were your days? I don’t think I’m used to the college schedule yet,’ she admits. 

‘Good,’ Ashley says. She tries and probably fails to hide her astonishment that her quiet roommate is willingly engaging in conversation. ‘I love having so much free time. It’s much easier to get homework done.’

‘I agree,’ she says. ‘I need to start doing assignments when they‘re assigned, though. I‘ve been putting off things because it feels like I have all the time in the world. And we don’t.’

‘So true,’ Jenny nods wisely, as though she’s just shared the secret of the universe.

Luckily, before she has to think of anything else to say, someone knocks on the door.

‘I‘ll get it,’ she says, and walks over to their door. It’s Annie, as she suspected. 

‘Hi Caroline! Ready for dinner?’

‘Yes! Let me just introduce you to my suitemates first. Jenny, Ashley, this is Annie. We‘re both taking Intro to Physical Anth. She’s on 4.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Annie says, giving them a quick wave. They smile and return the greeting. 

‘See you later,’ she tells them. 

‘We‘re going to a party tonight, but we‘ll be back later,’ Jenny says. 

‘Have fun!‘ she offers, and finally they can go.

’that was rude of them not to invite you,’ Annie says when they‘re out of earshot. 

She shrugs. ‘It’s not a big deal. I won’t invite them when the tennis team throws their parties. ‘

‘Are you trying out for the team?’ 

She smiles mischievously. ‘No, although I do play. My cousins Oliver and Tucker are on the men’s varsity team and they throw the best parties. So...’

Annie laughs. ‘I think we‘re going to be good friends. ‘

After they get their food and find a table to sit at--she’s made a chicken Caesar salad, wanting to avoid the freshman 15, and Annie has a burger and fries--Annie asks, ‘So, do you know anyone else here?’

She swallows her bite of salad and says, ‘Yes. I have my twin cousins, Oliver and Tucker--they‘re seniors. And another cousin, Eliza, who is a sophomore. There are also a few people here I know from school. How about you?’

‘Yeah, a few people from school, but most of the people who went to an Ivy went to Harvard. I just couldn’t stay within a 15 minute drive of my parents any longer! They are the best but I’m the baby of the family and I needed to get out on my own. My two sisters are ten and twelve years older, so I’m REALLY the baby. What about you? I’m assuming you chose Yale because it’s a family tradition.’

‘Yes, it is, a bit. My mother went to Barnard though, like her mom, and my father went to Hunter College. But my mother’s father and my grandmother’s father went to Yale, and so did all of my mother’s cousins. I just--I grew up in Manhattan so Barnard was a bit close to home for me, like Harvard for you.’

‘I understand perfectly. Where did you live in Manhattan?’

‘On the Upper East Side,’ she says, blushing a bit. She doesn’t want to come across as a rich snooty prep school girl, but luckily Annie doesn’t take it that way. Maybe Jenny and Ashley did, though...

‘Nice! I’ve only been to New York a couple of times but I loved the Met.’

‘We go all the time,’ she replies, and then they get into an involved conversation about Impressionists.

By the time dinner is over, she’s sure that Annie will become a close friend. They have a lot in common and are both feeling a bit adrift here at Yale.

‘D’you want to come back to my room?’ she offers, feeling suddenly shy again. ‘We can have martinis.’

‘Depends on if you‘re a gin or vodka girl.’

‘Oh, gin, definitely.’

Annie laughs. ‘Me too. Let’s go!’


	2. Chapter 2

After two martinis Annie says goodbye, complaining about an early class in the morning. She’s feeling pleasantly tipsy by the time she says goodnight to her new friend and very grateful that she’s alone in her suite. She doesn’t expect Jenny and Ashley back for a long time and hopes that they’ll be quiet coming in.

She’s not tired yet, not enough to go to sleep at least, and it’s only 10 p.m. She flops back on her bed and her eye catches the photograph on her nightstand. It’s of her and her mother and Mike at her graduation. Her family, she realizes all over again. After a minute of staring at the picture, noticing how many similarities she and Mike share, she grabs her laptop and brings it back to bed. Sprawling on her stomach, she opens the library homepage, goes to the newspaper database, and types in his name.

Not for the first time she blesses Yale’s library system. She has access to back issues of hundreds of newspapers and magazines, and quickly finds well over a hundred results for his name. Too impatient to search through them all, she adds a date range to the search for the time she would have been conceived.

There are easily a dozen results, and she clicks on the first one. It’s about a task force he was a member of, Staten Island and Manhattan police, Jack McCoy, and even a few FBI agents. She gets sucked into the story, the mob coverup, the death of a young woman only a few years older than she, corruption at Mike’s old precinct. And then--the speculation he’ll be transferred back to Manhattan and the complete shattering of his hopes when they arrest the son of the mob boss in charge and he shoots his father.

She sits back from the computer, winded as though she’s just experienced all of this in real life… then checks the date of the last article. It lines up with the right dates. So--Mike, shattered, broken, alone, had gone to her mother. Begged her for help. Ended up in bed together, and--

And then what? She doesn’t want to think of the details of that night, obviously, but the repercussions--obviously her mother stayed married to Ben. And Mike--

No wonder it took them so long to end up together at last. With all of the baggage that they apparently had--she’d never even glimpsed this much, and she knows that there must be more, how could there not be?--but they are together at last, and they had her--

She’d wondered if they would want children of their own, when they got married. But it was too late for them, and--well, she now knows that they’d already had her. It took them a long time, so long, to find their ways back to each other. What happened to break them up in the first place?

She rubs a hand over her eyes in an attempt to still her jangled thoughts, an unconscious gesture that she realizes comes from Mike. Why didn’t her mother leave Ben? She remembers, suddenly, that Christmas when her mother accused Ben of leaving them for a few months after she was born. What happened then? And why didn’t her mother and Mike--

Well, she’s not going to put their story together from old newspaper articles. With a yawn, she looks at the clock. It’s almost midnight and her first class is at 9 tomorrow--quantitative reasoning. She puts her laptop away, turns off the lights, and goes to sleep.

 

Her alarm goes off with a shrill ring and she groans, rolling out of bed and turning off the alarm in the same motion. She’s always used an old-fashioned alarm clock, afraid of the power going off and her alarm not ringing. It’s definitely the most effective way of waking up short of a bucket of cold water being dumped on her head, and she needs a shrill alarm to get her up for her quantitative reasoning class.

She hates, hates, hates this class. It’s the worst class she’s ever been in, boring and surprisingly difficult at the same time, and it’s only the second week of shopping week, when classes are notoriously easier. She’s only taking this course so she can get one of her two required quantitative reasoning credits over with, while her other three classes are easier.

She’s managed to organize her schedule pretty well, with no classes after 3pm on any day and only her quantitative reasoning class on Friday morning. At least she has her French class after quantitative reasoning; she’s been fairly fluent for years but this is an immersive class with a particular emphasis on conversation and culture. She’s learned a ton already and is already looking forward to being able to take more language courses.

As Physical Anth is after lunch at 2, she’ll have time to come back to her room before class and change over her books. She has a different notebook and folder for each class; neither her French nor Math classes require a laptop, so she leaves that on her desk. Shoving her copy of _501 French Verbs_ and her math textbook in her tote bag, she heads down the five flights of stairs to the dining hall.

With a large cup of coffee and a bagel in front of her, she opens up her planner and checks on her assignments scheduled for the rest of this week and early next week. She’s glad she’s only taking four courses--students take between 4 and 5 credits a semester as 9 credits are required for each year. She’s taking 4.5 credits this semester as her French class counts as an extra half credit. Luckily, it’s also her easiest class by a long shot. As it’s mostly conversational, she hasn’t had any homework so far.

She doesn’t have any homework due yet for her Intro to Psych course either. She’s been reluctantly intrigued by it so far; she decided she’d take a class in psychology and one in law just to rule out any interest. Unfortunately, it does interest her. The class is small for an Intro class--only 30 students, so there’s no recitation period. It’s mostly discussion-based so far, and Professor Skoda is a fascinating albeit blunt lecturer. After shopping week is over she’ll be writing a reading response every week for further discussion in class. Her mother had approved of the two books they’re using; she is lucky that her mother is so willing to help her out with this course, even though she can tell she’s holding herself back, not willing to influence her daughter to follow her own career.

Thinking of her mother brings everything from last night back and she has to force herself not to slump in her seat with the weight of this burden. She has to email her mother back--and maybe she’ll ask Annie to come to lunch with them. That would be good. Eliza can’t, she has plans with her boyfriend to go down to Contentment Island, though her cousin will change them if she asks. She doesn’t want to ask, though. She wants to be able to do this by herself.

In any case, she would like her mother to bring up bagels and gravlax from Russ & Daughters. The bagels here are sorely lacking in taste, she thinks, as she scowls down at the pathetic excuse for one on her plate. Maybe she can freeze some in her tiny freezer? She’s so glad her mother insisted on getting her her own small fridge for her room. It’s much easier to have her own things within reach.

She drains her cup of coffee, leaves the remains of her bagel on her plate, and brings it to the tray drop-off before heading out the door to her maths class.

 

After maths and French, she heads back to Durfee and grabs a sandwich before going back up to her room. She’s still completely in love with her French class; she thought that she was fluent enough to get around in Paris and Hyères when she’s staying with the Montignys, but her professor, a native Frenchwoman named Mme. Durand, has really focused in on her vocabulary. She’s been sloppy--too many slang words have found their way into her conversation and she wants to speak properly, especially if she decides to do a year abroad.

Her phone beeps as she unwraps her sandwich and finds a Coke in her fridge. It’s Annie.

_Want to grab lunch before class? I’m at the dining hall._

_I just got back to my room_ , she types out in reply. _Have to do some work before class. Save me a seat if you get there first?_

_Of course! :)_

_Thank you! :)_

She smiles as she sets her phone down. Annie definitely will be a friend and she seems like she’s a lot of fun. It will be good, she knows, to make new friends on her own instead of relying on the people she’s known forever. She’ll ask Annie about lunch on Saturday and then email her mother after class. What else should she ask them to bring? She looks around her room.

God, she loves this room, she thinks. Even more than she loved her room in Colony, her mother’s old room at Farmington. It had been lovely and she does miss it but this is a new start for her, a grown-up room. She loves her bedding, new and beautiful linen sheets and a down duvet and pillows with her monogram on both, and a steamer trunk from her grandparents’ travels filled with extra blankets and pillows, and her slipper chair and ottoman upholstered in Schumacher’s Citrus Garden, the pale blue the same as the blue in her monogrammed pillow. Her mother thought things through, as exacting about the decor in her daughter’s college dorm room as she was with her patients.

Her bookcase is already full to bursting, not just with textbooks but with favorite novels in English and French, with a set of her father’s--of Ben’s--books. He’d signed them for her but that was all there was. No inscription, no personal note.

When she thinks about it, the knowledge that Mike was really her father comes as a sort of relief.

She checks her phone; twenty minutes before she has to leave. She finishes her sandwich quickly and runs to the bathroom to wash her hands. God, it’s a _mess_. Her roommates must have surfaced after she left for her first class because things are strewn everywhere and someone must have broken her perfume because she chokes on clouds of Miss Dior. She’s grateful that she keeps her things in her room. She cracks the window before she leaves and leaves a note for them on the coffee table, telling them that the window is open and that she’ll be back after her class.

After she grabs her bag and locks her room behind her, she catches a whiff of scent. Great. Now she smells like she’s bathed in their perfume. There’s no time to change; she hopes the walk to class will be enough to dissipate the lingering odor.

 

‘Nice perfume,’ Annie says as she slides next to her in the back row of the classroom. ‘But it might be a bit much.’

She wrinkles her nose in response. ‘Jenny or Ashley must’ve still been drunk this morning because one of them broke a bottle of perfume. This isn’t my scent, thank God. It’s making me nauseous.’

Annie chuckles. ‘Good. I was going to say it doesn’t really suit you and you should return it if you can.’

‘Haha, very funny,’ she replies, winning a grin from her friend. They still have a few minutes before class, and she’s already ready, her notebook out. ‘Listen, my mom and stepdad are coming up this weekend and they said I could invite a friend to lunch. Would you like to come?’

‘Sure!’ Annie says. ‘What time and where?’

She grins. ‘I’m not sure yet where. They said I could pick. I thought maybe that Belgian place?’

‘Sounds good. Do you want me to meet you there?’

‘We can walk over together. They’re going to come here first as they are going to bring me some things from Manhattan.’

‘Lucky you! That’s the only reason I’m happy my parents are coming for Family Weekend. Are they coming back for that too?’

‘Yes, a lot of my family will be here. Two sets of aunts and uncles and my grandparents too.’

‘Sounds busy,’ Annie remarks, and she nods.

‘All right,’ their professor calls. ‘Class has started. By now you should have finished your dominant and recessive alleles worksheet in your recitation. Can anyone tell me…’

 

‘Are you done for today or do you have another class?’ she asks as they pack up their books.

‘One more,’ Annie replies. ‘My writing class. It meets at 4, and since it’s in the English building I’m heading back to Durfee first to change over my books. What about you?’

‘I’m done for the day. This is my latest class all week, thank goodness. I’ll walk back with you.’

‘Good,’ Annie smiles. ‘So, tell me about your family. Am I gonna have to pretend to be a good influence?’

She laughs. ‘Are you kidding? My mother is the one who bought me all the alcohol I’d need before I left. She told me that while college was an excuse to party, she wanted me to be careful, drink in moderation, and only drink the good stuff.’

Annie looks at her, astonished, before laughing. ‘Wow, I wish my mom was like that.’

‘Yes, I’m lucky,’ she replies. She is lucky, she knows that, even despite this massive secret she’s hidden from her, even despite staying with her husband for years.

‘What does she do for work?’

‘She’s a psychologist,’ she replies proudly. ‘She’s in private practice, although she used to teach at Barnard and Columbia.’

‘Ooh, that’s awesome. I’m really torn between Anthro and Psychology as a major. I’m taking Intro to Psych with Dr. Skoda and it’s amazing.’

‘I’m taking it too! On Tuesdays and Thursdays first thing. It’s great. I emailed her the book list and she used to use one of them for her courses, actually.’

‘That’s good to know. What about your stepdad?’

‘He used to be a cop. A homicide detective.’

‘Your family is so interesting!’ Annie complains.

‘I don’t know--I think that working at a school or at a museum would be fantastic,’ she tells Annie, remembering what she said about her family yesterday.

They’re back at Durfee already and climb the stairs up to the fourth floor.

‘Dinner again tonight?’ Annie asks.

‘Sounds good,’ she agrees, and heads up to five.

 

She’s halfway through the assigned reading for Physical Anth, the TV in the common room on in the background, when a knock sounds at her door. Sighing, she writes a star next to the paragraph she’s reading and sets the book aside.

‘Little cousin!’ Oliver announces when she opens the door.

Tucker asks, ‘How’s your second week?’

She grins, surprised and delighted to see her cousins. ‘Good! How are you two? Come on in.’

They grin and her and step into her common room, Oliver ruffling her hair as he walks past. She sticks her tongue out at him and he barks a laugh.

‘Nice room,’ Tucker says appreciatively, looking around. ‘I kind of wish we’d been in Morse now, Vanderbilt sucked.’

‘Yes, I’m lucky. And I’ve got the single and it’s huge,’ she tells them, wanting to impress them for some strange reason. They’re her cousins, but they’ve always been so cool and she’s always wanted them to treat her as an equal and not as a little cousin.

‘Let’s see it!’ Tucker suggests.

She’s a bit surprised they’re so eager to be here--they must want something, she thinks. She walks over to her room and opens the door.

‘Damn, Caro, this is nice,’ Oliver tells her, frankly admiring.

‘Yeah, want to come over and decorate our place?’

‘Mom did most of it,’ she admits. ‘But thank you.’

Oliver and Tucker exchange a glance.

‘And did Aunt Liz also send you to Yale with a fully-stocked bar?’ Tucker asks.

She raises an eyebrow at them and then dissolves into laughter. ‘I _knew_ you had a reason for being here,’ she tells them. ‘So, what do you want?’

‘I think she’s onto us, brother,’ Oliver says.

‘We did want to spend time with the newest Yalie in the family,’ Tucker starts.

‘But we thought it would be more enjoyable with a martini,’ Oliver finishes.

‘Or a scotch and soda,’ Tucker amends.

She shakes her head at them, then smiles. ‘Okay, let’s go. Martinis or scotch?’

‘Martinis,’ they tell her, and grin when she lifts the cushion off the ottoman.

‘Tucker, get the ice,’ she tells him. ‘Oliver, the glasses are in the top drawer of the desk.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Tucker laughs, and she starts mixing their drinks.

 

After prowling around her room, martinis in hand, Tucker and Oliver drift out to the common room. With tennis on the in the background, they sprawl on the sofas, leaving her to perch on the remaining armchair.

‘Which team are you trying out for?’ Oliver asks.

She shrugs. ‘I’m not sure yet. Not tennis, I don’t think. Maybe squash?’

‘Why not tennis? We need a Griswold trifecta,’ he complains.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure? I’m not sure Yale could handle that.’

Tucker laughs. ‘Yeah, I agree. Well, squash would be a good fit for you. You always liked it better than tennis anyway.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Well, we’ll be sure you have invites to all our parties,’ Oliver adds. ‘Both the tennis ones and the ones we throw ourselves. Should be a lot of fun this year, now that we’re finally off-campus.’

The door to her suite swings open and Jenny and Ashley are revealed, standing in the doorway with open mouths, looking between her cousins and herself.

She feels a bit of mischief rise in her, annoyed at the way they’ve treated her up until now. Well, she can have a bit of fun…

‘Tucker, Oliver,’ she begins, smiling lazily at her cousins and then at her suitemates, ‘these are my suitemates, Ashley and Jenny.’

When Oliver raises an eyebrow at her, asking if she likes them, she gives a minute shake of her head.

‘Pleasure,’ Tucker drawls, flicking a gaze over them before turning back to her. ‘Caro, is there any more?’ he asks, waggling his glass.

‘In the shaker in the fridge,’ she offers, taking another sip of her martini. ‘Jenny, Ashley? Would you like a martini?’

‘Yes, please,’ Jenny says with alacrity. ‘A little hair of the dog would be just the trick.’

‘Ah, right. How was the party last night?’

Ashley winces. ‘Long. Sorry about the perfume, Caroline--I cleaned it up.’

‘Oh good. I don’t think Miss Dior is quite my scent,’ she replies, looking up at Tucker as he comes back from her room, shaker in hand.

‘You’ll need to make more, Caro, there’s barely any left,’ he complains.

‘Can’t you make it, lazybones?’ Oliver asks him. ‘Poor Caro’s practically been waiting on you hand and foot.’

‘Now, now, boys,’ she tells them, comfortable in this role they’ve played dozens of times in front of people they don’t particularly like. ‘Oliver, you _know_ Tucker doesn’t know how to make a good martini. It’s all about--balance.’

They crack up, remembering the time Tucker fell out of a tree while claiming he could walk across it. He’d made it out with a broken wrist and they had an eternity’s worth of material for teasing him.

Her suitemates look back and forth at them as though they’re playing tennis.

Feeling confident for the first time since she started at Yale, she stands up from her perch on the armchair and plucks the shaker from Tucker’s hand. She fills up his glass and Oliver’s, then tells them, ‘Wait here. I’ll make more. Tucker, come get the glasses.’

He follows her without protest and eases the door shut as he walks through it.

‘Don’t like them much?’ he asks quietly.

She looks over at him from where she’s mixing another batch of martinis. ‘How could you tell?’ she says, deadpan.

He snorts. ‘They don’t seem like much.’

Shrugging, she fills the shaker up with gin and a dash of vermouth.

‘We’ll sort it for you,’ he promises, and she looks over at him just in time to catch the tail end of a grin. She returns it, and they head back out to the common room.

‘Here you go Ashley, Ginny,’ Tucker says, deliberately mistaking Jenny’s name and calling her by Ashley’s for good measure.

‘No, _that’s_ Ashley, and this is Jenny,’ she says, then rolls her eyes at her suitemates, inviting her to share in her (faux) exasperation.

‘Oh. Sorry,’ Tucker says, not sounding very sorry at all. Not that they notice, she thinks, watching them stare at her cousins.

‘So, freshman year!’ Oliver says. ‘How are you girls enjoying it?’

‘It’s good so far,’ Jenny says with studied cool. ‘The parties have been good.’

The twins nod, looking bored--which they probably are. Oliver drains his martini.

‘We’ve got to head out, Caro--we’ve got a team meeting in an hour.’

‘And you let me ply you with martinis?’ she asks. ‘Oh, good.’

Tucker snickers. ‘It’ll make the meeting more interesting. Honestly, how many times do we need to go over the strategy for Cornell? They suck.’

‘Oh haha, very funny,’ she tells them, and they laugh for real. ‘Come by again soon.’

‘You betcha,’ Oliver replies, winking. ‘We’ll text you about the next party. Should be one next week, after tryouts.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, and gives them both a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘See you later.’

‘See you,’ they reply, and head out.

She closes the door behind them and then turns back to her suitemates. It takes everything she has not to laugh at them and the astonished looks on their faces.

‘Oh, my God. They were so hot. Who are they?’ Jenny says, speaking first.

‘Tucker and Oliver Griswold. They’re seniors, on the tennis team.’

‘How do _you_ know _them_?’ Is it her imagination or is there the slightest emphasis on _you_ and _them_ in Ashley’s question? She decides to be charitable and assume there’s not.

‘Oh, you know,’ she shrugs, grinning to herself, wanting to drag it out. ‘We go way back.’

They’re speechless again, and she takes a sip of her martini.

‘Oh, by the way--my mother and stepfather are coming up next weekend. They’ll be around for a bit in the middle of the day on Saturday and probably sometime on Sunday as well. I’ll make sure it’s not too early.’

They nod, knowing that the power dynamic has shifted. She has something they want--access to seniors and to the good parties and popularity. She’s not the loner they dismissed last week.

She smiles. ‘Great, thank you.’

Ashley takes a sip of her martini. ‘This is good,’ she says, faintly accusatory, as though she’s been holding out on them.

‘Thank you. I’m well practiced.’

Jenny takes a sip too and nods in reluctant agreement. ‘Yes. Thank you for sharing, Caroline.’

She smiles at them again, this time it has a bit of an edge. ‘You’re welcome.’

 

She tells Annie all this later and her friend is indignant.

‘And you didn’t think of texting me?’ she asks, only half-joking.

‘Sorry! It all happened so fast,’ she explains.

‘Well, I better meet them soon. And come along to the parties with you.’

She grins. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘Good,’ Annie says, and smiles. ‘Ah, I can’t wait to see the looks on their face when we head out to the party and your suitemates don’t!’

They dissolve into laughter over their dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new characters are introduced in this chapter, Tucker and Oliver Griswold. They are Caroline's twin cousins, three years older than she, and graduates of Andover. They are both Finance majors, plan to work at the family bank, and are on the varsity tennis team at Yale.


	3. Chapter 3

After dinner, after studying for a bit with Annie, finishing the Physical Anth reading and end of chapter questions, she heads back up to her room. Annie’s room is nice, but notably smaller than hers--there are 10 suites on four instead of the six suites on five--and didn't have a window seat. She feels lucky all over again.

When she gets back to her room, she sees her computer sitting on her desk. She’s been putting this off but she has to email her mother back.

It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just an email.

She opens her laptop and types something out quickly.

_Dear Mom,_

_Thank you for the offer. There’s a Belgian place near campus that looks good, maybe we could try there? I’ve invited a girl named Annie. We’re taking Physical Anth together and she’s one floor down from me in Durfee._

_Could you please bring bagels and gravlax? And maybe some black and white cookies?_

_Love you both,  
Caroline_

There. That wasn’t so hard. She clicks send, closes her laptop, and stands up to get changed into pajamas. It’s been a long day. After putting on her nightgown, a simple cotton confection from Germaine des Pres, she pulls her Psych textbook off the shelf and climbs into bed with it. She opens the page to the chapter they’re going to be discussing tomorrow and starts to read.

 

She wakes up an hour before her alarm goes off, gasping, still caught in the remnants of a bad dream that she can’t quite remember. It takes a few minutes before she catches her breath and thinks-- _all right, Thursday morning, time to get up and get dressed before class_ \--but takes a moment to run her hand through her hair, feeling the long comforting weight of it slip through her fingers and settle on her shoulders. She needs a haircut soon, she needs to get dressed, she needs to take another shower to get rid of the lingering scent of Miss Dior. She sighs, preemptively turns off her alarm, and gathers her things before heading to the bathroom.

Half an hour later the only scent remaining is her Molton Brown shampoo, thank God. Miss Dior was persistent and she’d be impressed with its staying power if she even remotely liked the scent. She brushes out her hair and pulls it back into a low ponytail. It’s raining today, so she eschews ballet flats for wellies, skinny jeans, and an overlarge oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

Her bag is sitting on the desk; she slips her Psych textbook and her laptop inside, shifting _501 French Verbs_ to make room for her computer charger. She’s glad her tote bag is waterproof. Throwing her umbrella in her bag and grabbing her rain jacket, she heads out to breakfast.

She doesn’t mind having breakfast by herself. At this hour of the day most of the students are bleary-eyed and focused only on their coffee. While she’s something of a morning person, thanks to years of boarding school, she still doesn’t feel like a lot of interaction first thing.

Skipping the bagel today, she instead makes a piece of toast and grabs an apple along with her coffee. She opens her textbook again, skimming the discussion questions at the end.

Before she can get too involved, her phone beeps--a text from her mother. She opens it, heart suddenly pounding.

_I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I hope you have a good day today! We are so proud of you._

She smiles despite herself. All of her mother’s decisions had been made to give her a good life. And she had, despite it all. She was very lucky.

Draining the last gulp of now-cold coffee, she heads off to her Psych class.

She’s about fifteen minutes early and the room is open, so she decides to choose a seat closer to the front than she has in the past. The front row seats fill up quickly, so she hasn’t had a chance to sit where she would like to, especially for this class. She’s not the first to arrive; there are three other people already in the front row. She’s fascinated by Dr. Skoda’s lectures, which are so different from the way her mother speaks about her profession.

People start to trickle in shortly after she arrives, and five minutes before class starts the room is full. Dr. Skoda enters the classroom just as the bell rings.

‘All right,’ he begins, rummaging through his bag before emerging triumphantly with a sheet of paper. ‘My TA isn’t here today--job interview--so we’re going to do something a little different. I’m assuming you all are sticking with this class?’ he says, looking over at his students.

There’s a general murmur of assent.

‘Great. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re a small class, all going to be working together, so we are going to go around the room and introduce ourselves, say where we’re from, and why we’re taking this course. I’ll start. I’m Dr. Emil Skoda, I’m from Baltimore, and I’m teaching this class because I find it more--rewarding, shall we say, than private practice.’ He pauses for a moment, then points at the person to her right.

She pays attention to her classmates; most freshman, some sophomores. One other from New York, but Westchester. Mostly women. She’s not very good with names unless she’s really trying, so she lets them go as she tries to figure out what she’ll say. At last it’s her turn.

‘I’m Caroline Olivet. I’m from New York City and I signed up for this course because my mother’s a psychologist and I wanted to rule it out as a profession for me. But despite myself, I’m intrigued.’

The professor narrows his eyes and looks at her for a long moment before turning away to hook his laptop up to the projector. She feels confused--did she insult him accidentally?--and knows that her classmates are looking at her.

‘Today we are going to talk about bias. BIas is implicit in all of us, even if we think otherwise. Even if you are a psychologist and can achieve a level of professional detachment, your bias still comes into play.’

He presses a button on his laptop and the mugshot of a young woman comes up. ‘This is Fiona Read. Or Marguerite Sampson, or Lorelei Savage. She is a woman who pretended to be a high school student for more than fifteen years. She conned and manipulated a teacher. Now, I’ll admit, I see a girl who is my son’s age, someone who appears to be a victim, and I’m inclined to go a little easier on her in my examination. But putting aside that bias, I saw that she was a severely disturbed, manipulative person. She was arrested and is currently in jail.’

He presses another button, goes through three more people before pausing and looking at her. The photo that appears is that of a young girl, maybe ten years old.

‘This is Jenny Brandt. Jenny exhibited the behavior of a serial killer at the tender age of ten. She killed a cat by poisoning it and then shortly thereafter she killed a young boy by bashing his head in with a rock. She thought she could revive him by sticking a battery in his mouth.’

The class is silent with shock at both the killer and the disgust in their professor’s voice.

‘Jenny was examined by two different psychologists--myself, and an esteemed colleague of mine. My colleague, a woman who was pregnant at the time, insisted that Jenny could learn to modify her behavior. She argued this despite evidence of Jenny’s temporal lobe being permanently damaged and in light of the fact that she had killed someone already.’

He looks at her again and holds her ages as he continues, ‘This psychologist got her off. She was found not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. Jenny Brandt hasn’t killed again. Yet,’ he admits, almost reluctantly. ‘But that doesn’t mean that my colleague’s bias was any less dangerous. She put a killer back on the streets because she believed that every child, even killers, deserved the chance of a good life. She’s wrong.’

The screen goes black and he turns the lights back on.

‘Think about bias and how it affects you. I want a one-page response on a situation when you experienced bias--either you were biased, or you were the victim of bias. Due next Thursday.’ He closes his laptop and looks at the class. ‘Class dismissed. Miss Olivet, please see me.’

Oh, God. She’s in trouble, she thinks. But for what? She’s been a model student. A participant, not too eager. Maybe her introduction was too snarky.

In any case, she packs up her books and waits until the other students leave before approaching her professor.

‘Ah, Miss Olivet. Good,’ he says. ‘Can I assume that your mother is Elizabeth Olivet?’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ she replies, growing more confused. ‘Do you know her, Professor?’

He snorts. ‘Do I know her, she asks,’ he says to himself. ‘Tell me, Miss Olivet, have you heard about any of the cases we discussed today prior to this class?’

‘No. Should I have?’

‘Well, your mother was the psychologist in the Jenny Brandt case who convinced the judge to give that serial killer another chance. I can understand why she didn’t talk about it over the dinner table, but still.’

She’s shocked into silence. So--this was before she was born, just before she was born. Her mother had never told her about this case--but then she didn’t really talk about her work. But then what he’s said hits her and her shock turns into anger.

‘Dr. Skoda, if you have an issue with my mother--’ she begins, angry on her behalf. Her mother always wanted to see the best in people. And she was right, obviously, because that girl didn’t kill anyone else.

He interrupts her. ‘I’m not saying I have an issue with your mother, Miss Olivet. I just think--maybe it would be better for you to take this class from another professor. I’m going to delve deeply into a lot of the cases I’ve worked on and that may make you uncomfortable. Your mother and I have been adversaries for many years and have only agreed on a couple of cases. She is a good doctor and an excellent psychologist, but I strongly disagree with her conclusions and her methods. So--this class may make you uncomfortable.’

She shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. She’s doing her job. Just because you disagree with her--it doesn’t mean you’re right,’ she tells him, then claps her hand over her mouth and stares at him in shock. _Shit. Shit!_

After a long moment of silence, he chuckles. ‘You have a lot of your mother in you. She never hesitated to go toe to toe with me or anyone else if she believed she was in the right. And she always believed she was on the side of the angels.’

She doesn’t know what to say and so she just remains silent, watching him.

‘All right, Miss Olivet. Thank you for your time,’ he says at last.

‘Thank you, Professor,’ she tells him. She doesn’t have time to think about this now; she has to get to French. But a stray thought runs through her mind as she walks out the door. College was supposed to be a time when she learns about herself, not discover secrets about her mother.

 

She’s frankly relieved, after French, that she only has one more class this week. It’s only the second week of classes, her third week living here, she reminds herself, but it feels as though she started at Yale years ago. God.

Eliza texts her while she’s on her way to lunch. She’s actually going to eat in the dining hall today--she is craving a burger. While she is limiting herself to one treat a week--it wouldn’t do to get out of shape before the squash season--she’s throwing that to the wind right now because God, she wants a burger, and it’s been a tough day.

_Are you sure you don’t want me to stay this weekend? Kip and I can go down next weekend. Let me know. I love you!_

She texts her back once she’s safely ensconced in a booth, her burger and a huge pile of French fries on a tray in front of her.

_It’s fine, thank you. Have fun!! Please give Sadie a cuddle for me if she’s there. Not sure if Mom and Mike are leaving her on the island while they’re up here, love you._

She wishes she could have her dog here with her. Maybe she can get her deemed an emotional support animal? But no, that wouldn’t be fair to her to leave her in her dorm room, no matter how big it is for her. Sadie’s a Springer spaniel, after all, and she needs space. More than her late dog, Marjorie, did. She still misses Marjorie sometimes; it hits her at the oddest moments. She’d been given her when her parents separated and honestly, clinging to her cocker spaniel made it a lot easier. And when Marjorie died, two years after her mother married Mike, Mike was the one who did the research, found a breeder, and proudly presented Sadie to her on Christmas morning.

Looking back on her relationship with Mike--God, he _loved_ her. He wanted to be there for her, wanted to be her father. It was easy to let him. Her relationship with Ben, while improved now that she was an adult, was still strained. Quite frankly she had a closer relationship with her dorm mother at Farmington than she did with her father. With Ben, she corrects herself. It will be a long time before she stops reflexively thinking of him as her father.

But Mike--Mike made an effort. He always did. Even before he married her mother--and they had a longer engagement than she suspects they would have, had she not been in the picture, over a year to make sure she was comfortable with him, with them--he was there. He’d bring her to school, pick her up, come to her tennis and squash matches. Even when she went to Farmington he’d drive up regularly and he only missed the matches that were held at St. Paul’s. Which is fair, because New Hampshire was a long drive for them and Farmington was much closer than New Hampshire.

But he was _there_. For sports and for moving her in and out of dorms and holidays and just everyday life--he was there and he made her mother so happy. He made her happy, too, he made her feel cherished and loved and _important_ the way Ben never even tried to.

She was grateful for him, to him. For loving her. For being like a father to her. But despite that--how could they have hidden this from her?

How could she forgive him for only being like a father to her instead of being her father? How could she forgive her mother for telling her that the man who didn’t care about her was her father, when the one who did actually was?

How could she ever believe anything they said again? And yet--

How could she pretend to understand their motives? She has no idea what happened between them. She has no idea.

She needs to know.

 

She makes every effort to finish her homework due next week that night, skipping dinner and emerging starving at 9 p.m. She’d turned off her phone, put classical music on, and _concentrated_. Some of her work was more difficult than she expected, especially Dr. Skoda’s paper on bias. It takes her a long time to think of a time when she’s experienced bias and that surprises her. She went to all-girls’ schools up until now, she was a good student and the daughter of a past good student. She finally uses her conversation with Dr. Skoda as her example and hopes that she’ll get a good grade. It is a good paper, after all.

Thinking back on her life—she’s always known she was lucky, how could she not know that—but she _was_ lucky. Her life has been blessed. She’s never had to worry about not having enough to eat, and while her father—while _Ben_ —hadn’t necessarily loved her, he wasn’t abusive. Not even neglectful. Just… indifferent. And her mother—her mother loved her so much and that made up for a lot of things.

And then there was her family, her cousins and uncles and aunts, her mother’s parents, Peter and Miranda… she was lucky, she was blessed, for years her only worries had been whether to spend the summer on Contentment Island or the Hamptons and she’s ashamed, now, ashamed at being angry with the woman who gave her everything.

She’s had a good life.

Her mother told her once that Mike didn’t have a good life and she’s picked up on that a little bit throughout the years, by the way they’ve only seen his brother and sister once or twice, the way they never come to the beach with them despite invitations, the way he gets tense, sometimes, when her mother pays for something instead of him—

\--because he must have grown up in a household where money was tight, at the very least. Maybe more. Maybe worse, probably worse. The way he was with Ben—so angry, and maybe that’s because he was there when Mike wasn’t, but maybe it’s something more.

When it comes down to it, she doesn’t know too much about him. She just knows who he is now, not who he was. Does her mother know? She must.

And her mother? By all accounts her life had been just as blessed as hers. She’d been happy and healthy and loved her job—

Was it work that had split them up? Or something else? And if they hadn’t, they would have married years ago, she would have siblings—

Her back suddenly twinges, throwing her thoughts back to the present and off the broken track they’ve been on. She stretches and yawns immensely; she’s exhausted and hungry and ready to just go to sleep right here, but she needs food first. There’s nothing in her little fridge and the dining hall is closed. Maybe she’ll order pizza. Yes. That’s what she’ll do.

She turns back on her phone to order a large pepperoni and she goes through her missed texts messages before she calls the pizza place. One from Annie, confirming that they wouldn’t be getting dinner together tonight so she could finish her homework. One from Eliza, telling her she loves her. One from her Farmington group, asking if there are any parties this weekend. Two from Oliver and Tucker, telling her the date of the next party ( _Thursday at our place, bring a friend but not your roommates!_ ), and one from Mike.

_We’re looking forward to seeing you, honey! XO_

He’d never gotten used to saying “I love you.” Her mother told her that, that it was hard for him to say it. So maybe his childhood—maybe he didn’t have anyone to love. Maybe he didn’t know how to say it. He knew how to show it, though.

She is suddenly overwhelmed with homesickness for the first time in her life. _She wants her mother!_ She wants her mother to be here right now with a hug and a kiss and an explanation for what they did, for not telling her, for lying to her all these years—

Before she can stop herself she’s picked up her phone and dialed her mother’s number and then she is there and she is crying, crying.


	4. Chapter 4

Halfway through her phone call with her mother, when she is saying that they’ll drive up tonight, be there in a few hours, she comes to her senses and is embarrassed. She manages at last to convince them that it’s nothing, but they insist on coming up a day early.

It takes a long time for her to fall asleep. Even after hanging up the phone she can still hear the barely suppressed panic in her mother’s voice. What had she thought happened? Something bad.

She tried to assure her mother that nothing happened, but she couldn’t manage to convince her of that because of course something did happen, something she doesn’t want to go into on the phone.

When she finally falls asleep, it’s four in the morning.

 

She drags herself out of bed at the latest possible moment she can. Her parents will be here by 10; she can go meet them at their hotel at any point after her quantitative reasoning class. With that in mind, she dresses comfortably in jeans and a plain white tshirt before slipping into a pair of sandals. As an afterthought, she stuffs that Anthro worksheet into her bag.

The morning passes in a daze. When Quantitative Reasoning finishes her professor calls her name three times before she realizes class is over.

‘Is everything okay?’ her professor asks, concerned.

‘I’m just not feeling well,’ she replies, then thanks the professor politely and leaves.

It’s a half mile walk to the hotel but it feels like fifty. It’s the longest walk of her life. How the hell is she going to bring this up? How can she tell them that she knows?

Her mother is waiting for her in the hotel lobby. She sees her first and stops for a moment just inside the doors to look at her. She’s scanning the room, clearly waiting for her, worried. Her gaze lights upon her at last and her mother forces a smile, rising up from her chair to meet her. Her mother folds her into an embrace.

‘Darling--I was so worried,’ she says into her ear, squeezing her tight before pulling back to look at you. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Um--where’s Mike?’ she stumbles, wanting to put this off.

‘He took Sadie for a walk, he wanted to give us some time in private--’ she stops, seeing either relief or dread on her face, she’s not sure--she’s not sure how she feels. ‘Let’s go to our room.’

She follows her mother almost meekly to their room. It’s a lovely suite overlooking the Green, but although it’s a beautiful view it doesn’t hold her attention.

‘Um, I wasn’t sure you’d bring Sadie. I thought you’d leave her on the Island.’

‘I thought that you needed her,’ her mother says gently, and all of the sudden she’s in tears again. ‘What’s wrong, Caroline?’

It’s hard to talk through the tears, hard to form a coherent narrative, so she swallows them back and swipes angrily at the ones still falling. ‘In my Anthro recitation--we had to do a genetics thing, dominant and recessive alleles. And blood types. And--well, Ben can’t be my father. And I know that Mike must be.’

Her mother goes white for a moment--whatever she was expecting to hear wasn’t that. But it’s only a moment. She says, ‘We wanted to tell you. We just didn’t know how.’

She’s angrier than she thought she’d be. ‘How could you let me think that _Ben_ was my father? He never cared about me, he never loved me. How could you let that happen?’

‘Let’s sit down,’ her mother asks calmly. She knows that her mother’s slipping into psychologist-mode but that’s fine, she needs one of them to keep a handle on the situation. She sits down in the armchair by the window; her mother takes the other.

‘Mom--’

‘Caroline,’ she says, gentle but firm. ‘I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. And Mike will too.’

‘Who else knows?’ It’s a first question, it’s a start. One question at a time, she can do this--

‘Elizabeth Rodgers. She ran a paternity test for me after you were born, in case--in case something happened to me. That way Mike would have a legal claim to you. Shelly Kates, when I was sued ten years ago. It was because Mike and I--our relationship began when he was still my patient. And that was part of the reason I was sued. I was lucky to keep my license, frankly, Caroline.’

‘I had no idea,’ she says, and her mother dips her head in acknowledgement.

‘It doesn’t matter now. And I’d transferred his case the next day. But in any case--I had to tell Shelly. And then Dr. Lawrence knows--not that Mike is your father, but that Ben wasn’t. I’m not sure if Mike told anyone.’

She’s surprised her family doesn’t know, and says as much to her mother.

‘I didn’t know how to tell Chrissy or Teddy. It would have meant admitting I’d made a mistake marrying Ben, when they’d tried to talk me out of it, telling me that I could be a mother on my own--’ she breaks off for a moment, then says, ‘I should have listened to them. I didn’t know when we were married that Ben didn’t want another child. And--I thought that he’d be a good father. That he’d just need time. But I was wrong. I should have divorced him the second I realized he wasn’t going to be there for you. I just hoped--I just hoped I was wrong.’ Her mother leans forward suddenly and takes her hand. ‘I won’t ask you to forgive me. You are perfectly within your rights to hate me and resent me for staying married to him and for keeping this a secret from you. I just hope I can explain to you why I did what I did.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ she says.

Her mother gives her a wavering smile. ‘Would you prefer to ask questions or for me to tell you what happened?’

‘Maybe you can start? And I’ll ask questions if I need to,’ she suggests.

‘All right,’ her mother replies, and takes a deep breath. ‘The night that you were conceived--Ben was out of town for a month, had been away for two weeks already--I’d been out, hearing about this task force that Mike had been involved in, how it had fallen apart at the end. He’d been on Staten Island for three years after punching a politician… he knew he’d need a big solve to get back to Manhattan, where he wanted to be. And he thought this was it. When it wasn’t--we’d always been close. I’d been the one person he could talk to, and then we’d broken up, and then his friend Claire--our friend--died suddenly two years earlier, and he came to talk to me that night. And--well, one thing led to another. But the next morning…’ she breaks off for a moment and closes her eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks tentatively. 

‘The problem is, Caroline, that so much of our relationship… we went through a lot together. Put each other through a lot. It’s a miracle that we managed to find our way back to each other.’ She takes another deep breath. ‘The next morning I went to the kitchen to get coffee. When I came back into the bedroom, he was getting dressed. He’d thought I’d left and he--lashed out. And so, when he left that day, I never expected we’d see each other again.

‘When I found out I was pregnant I tried to tell Mike first. I left him a message asking him to call me back. I just couldn’t tell him in a message. And while I was pregnant I called him frequently but he never called me back. And then, one day, we ran into each other on the street, and he put two and two together, and came into my office the next day. And--he wanted to know when you were born. And he wanted to be a part of your life, but I didn’t know how to do that at that point. That night he’d said--he said things that I believed he believed were true. And some of them were things I didn’t think we could get past. So I just couldn’t see--I couldn’t see how it would work.’

She doesn’t know how to ask the next question. ‘Did you--were you upset when you realized that Mike was my father?’

‘No, of course not,’ her mother says, her response gratifyingly immediate. ‘Of course not, Caroline. When I realized Mike was your father--it was the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. We’d wanted children… having you was such a gift, such a blessing. I’ve never stopped being grateful for it.’

Something tight in her heart unclenches. She knows that her mother is telling the truth and to know--it’s a relief.

Before she can say anything else the door to the room opens and Sadie bounds through it, coming to sit at her feet, her paws resting on her knees. She leans forward and embraces her spaniel, burying her face in her fur. She’s dimly aware of her mother getting up from her chair, walking to Mike, and speaking quietly. She stays where she is for a few more moments, taking deep breaths to keep control of herself, before letting Sadie go and turning to look at her parents.

For a moment, they don’t notice that she’s looking at them. Mike has his arm around her mother’s shoulders, her arms wrapped around his waist. They love each other--they always have, she knows that now, a little bit more at least.

Finally they look at her and Mike grins, a shade of its usual confident self. She’s never seen him quite like this before--he looks almost shy. Clearly her mother’s told him what’s happened.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he says tentatively.

‘Hi,’ she replies. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Carefully, gently, he makes his way over to her and folds her into a hug--and suddenly everything changes; it feels the way it was supposed to be. They feel like a family. It’s stupid, she knows, but--that’s how it feels. She’s crying again, and he is, too, hugging her so tight it’s hard to breathe.

‘I love you, honey. I’m so sorry,’ he whispers into her ears. She squeezes him tight again and pulls back.

‘I love you,’ she says in response.

He smiles at her, a full, happy smile, and it takes her breath away again to remember that this is her father, her father who loves her.

‘Do you want to talk, Caroline? Lizzie gave me a brief overview of what you’ve talked about, but--well, I want to answer any questions I can. You deserve that.’

She doesn’t know what to say. It was easier with her mother because she did all the talking but--asking her father? What can she say to him? She meets his eyes and he gives her a helpless smile and shrug.

‘Why don’t we sit down?’ her mother suggests, putting her hand on Mike’s back and pushing him forward to the chair next to her. Mike shakes his head, offering her the chair, and leaves the room for a moment before bringing what must be the desk chair from the other room. He puts it between her chair and her mother’s.

‘I dunno how to start, Caroline,’ he admits once he’s seated. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Did you--want me?’ she asks, needing to know.

‘Of course I did.’ His answer comes in a quiet voice. ‘Of course, Caroline. It’s just--by the time you came along I thought your mother and I were done. I’d fucked it up with her again and again--’ he leans forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground. ‘She called me. She called me a bunch and I never called her back or picked up. I just--I thought she was calling because she forgave me. And I just couldn’t take that right then.’ He sighs gustily. ‘I just--I didn’t know she was callin’ about you. And by the time I found out about you, it was too late. There wasn’t anything I could say to make a difference.’

Her mother reaches out and squeezes his arm and he looks at her. For a moment what they share--their gaze--she blushes and looks away. It’s something so private, she feels as though she’s eavesdropping, seeing them in an intimate situation. And she is, isn’t she?

‘I wanted to marry your mother years ago. Her engagement ring--I bought it in 1995,’ he admits, and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. 1995… more than twenty years ago he’d wanted to marry her mother. And it took them so long… 

He continues, ‘I’ve loved your mother forever. I’ll always love her. The best thing that happened… we had you, even when we weren’t together, we had that. You.’

‘Why did you and Mom break up?’ she asks. It’s the last question she can think of right now.

His gaze remains on the floor; her mother drops her head, too, gripping her hands together.

‘I--after your mother was--’ He stops and clears his throat. ‘After--’ He looks helplessly at her mother, reaching out to take one of her hands. She presses his hand between both of hers.

‘What is it?’ she asks, knowing that she’s stumbled into something big. ‘What happened?’

Her mother runs a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. ‘I had a patient. Diane. She suffered from depression, paranoid delusions. Her gynaecologist moved away and her mother asked me for a recommendation. Barbara wouldn’t see her; I suggested another doctor.’ She sees her mother’s hands tremble.

'A week later she tried to kill herself. She told me it was because the doctor had raped her. I wasn't sure if it had happened... she'd been delusional before. So I made an appointment with him.'

Her heart is in her throat. Her mother is clutching Mike's hand like a lifeline; Mike has his eyes cast down to the ground, his face shadowed. 

'He molested me. I reported it to Mike and his partner; they took it to Ben. Ben said that he wouldn't, couldn't, pursue the case if it was only my word against his. So... I went back. I took a tape recorder. He shot me up with a sedative and--' she stops. 'The jury found him guilty of Rape 1 but the judge overruled. Mike, Phil, Ben, and Paul found more women he'd molested or raped. He took a plea. He will be in jail for the rest of his life. And during the trial Mike's partner was shot.'

Mike picks up the story. 'I didn't know what to do. I just felt... adrift. I made a mistake. It came out a couple years later, just before I was about to propose to your mom. She told me to go. I did. I didn't fight for her. And then... I punched a corrupt councilman and got sent to Staten Island for a decade.'

'Oh, Mommy,' she says, looking at her mother. She doesn't know what is worse--her mother being raped--raped!--or her father cheating on her mother. The former. She stands and gives her mother a hug, holding her tight. 

'I'm sorry,' she says. 'I'm so sorry.'

Mike rests his hand on her back. He's still holding her mother's hand, too, and even while her mother holds her her body leans towards his. 

'It was a long time ago, Caroline, but what happened... all of what happened, it cut deep. In some ways, I’ve never been able to get past it.'

'I'm sorry,' she repeats. 'Mommy--'

Her mother pulls back and looks at her. 'Caroline--we are so grateful for you every single day. I have never stopped feeling so lucky that you are our daughter. We love you.'

Mike nods. 

 

‘And I’m so, so sorry we kept this a secret. There have been so many time when we wanted to tell you… so many… but I was afraid that you’d hate us if you found out, that you’d never want to speak to us again. And you’d be well within your rights. But Caroline--you’re our daughter. And we love you.’

She rests her chin in her hand and looks at her parents. ‘What’s going to happen next? Are you going to tell the family?’

‘If you’d like us to, Caroline, we can. We’ll defer to you,’ her mother says.

‘I’ve already told Eliza,’ she admits. ‘I’d like to tell them, some of them. Grandmother and Grandfather and Miranda and Peter. And Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Teddy.’

‘All right,’ Mike says.

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ Mom replies.


	5. Chapter 5

By unspoken agreement they decide to order room service for lunch. The food at the hotel is good, and after lunch she curls up on the sofa with Sadie while Mike returns a few calls and her mother pulls out files to work on. She doesn’t want to talk now.

Over the years they've grown comfortable in silence. None of them are particularly talkative people--she's the one who talks the most, though her mother can speak fluently enough in society chatter when it's called for.

She's tired. She's exhausted, actually, and sitting here with Sadie snoozing, her spaniel's head in her lap, the temptation to lay back and close her eyes is almost irresistible. Well, she doesn't have anything else to do today... 

She yawns and leans back against the arm of the sofa. Maybe she will just take a little nap...

 

'...worried about her, Mike.'

She can hear her mother's low tones as she drifts out of sleep. 

'...don't know if she'll talk to me about it. Maybe she'll confide in Eliza, I hope she does--she shouldn't have to handle this on her own, and it's coming at such an important moment in her life...'

'What did she ask you when you two were talkin'?'

'How we came together that night. And she asked if I was disappointed if you were her father. God, if she only knew how grateful I was, every day, that she was yours... I tried to tell her but I don't think even you can understand what a sheer joy it is to me, even now.'

'I do know, Lizzie. I would've loved her if she was Stone's because she was yours, too, but the fact that she's mine... I can't get over it. It's amazing. A miracle.'

'I'm glad it's out now. The times we wanted to tell her... I'm so glad she knows.'

'What d'you think your parents will say? And Teddy and Chrissy?'

'Chrissy will be overjoyed. You know she always liked you... so much more than Ben. And Teddy... a week before I married Ben he took me to dinner, tried to talk me out of it, told me if I wanted to be a mother it wouldn't matter if I married him or not because they'd be there to help me... at that point, still, always, I only wanted your children. And if I couldn’t have your children, then at least I’d be married. I didn’t think my marriage would work out like that. I don't even know what I was doing at that point in my life. I look back on it now and it feels like such a blur...'

'For me, too,' he says.

'As for my parents, and Peter and Miranda... they'll be hurt that I didn't tell them to begin with. When Caroline was a few months old, when he left us, I found out later that Daddy had called Ben, told him to get back to New York and our life or I'd start divorce proceedings. I guess he didn't want another divorce. But during that time... I was so tempted to tell them, to share that with them, but I couldn't. And I don't know if they'll be able to forgive me for that.'

'Of course they will,' her father tells her mother. 'God, Lizzie, you're their only child. They love you. They want you to be happy and--well, I flatter myself, but you are happy. _We_ are happy.'

'I know,' she says, and even though by now she's pretending to still be asleep she can hear the undercurrent of joy in her mother's voice. 'After all these years together, Mike, God--I love you more and more every day.'

'Me too, Lizzie. I love you so much.'

She hears them kiss.

'You know what else gets better every day?' he asks. 'Takin' you to bed. You're so good, Lizzie, still such a wildcat--'

She hears muffled laughter even as she feels her face burn with embarrassment. 'While I agree with the sentiment, I'd prefer it if we don't wake our daughter up by talking about our sex life.'

'Well, it is something to talk about, but that would be pretty scarring, I guess.'

'I know,' her mother replies, though there's laughter in her voice. 'But I look forward to you continuing the conversation later, in private.'

'Oh, you know I will,' he promises. 'God, Lizzie, how'd we get so lucky at last to find each other?'

'I don't know,' her mother admits. 'But I thank God every day for the blessings we have.'

There's a rustle of cloth and the sound of bodies shifting.

'I love you, honey.'

' _I_ love _you_.'

She wonders what she should do. Should she pretend to wake up? Her parents sit in silence and she counts to one hundred before she shifts and yawns loudly before sitting up.

They're sitting together by the windows, Mike having dragged the two armchairs together, and at the sound of her yawn they've turned to look at her. 

'Feeling better, darling?' her mother asked. 

'Much,' she says, realizing it's true. Listening to them talk... they really love each other so much. It's heartening to know that her parents were still so deeply in love with each other. 

'Good,' Mike says. 'Hey, what would you like to do for the rest of the day?'

She shrugs. ‘It’s a nice day. Maybe we can go for a walk?’

At the sound of the word “walk” Sadie lifts her head.

‘So Sadie is a yes,’ her mother laughs. ‘All right. That sound lovely.’

‘Great,’ Mike adds.

‘All right. Can I just freshen up--’

‘Of course,’ Mom replies. ‘Bathroom is just past the bedroom. And Caroline, if you’d like to borrow another shirt, we’ve already unpacked. I’m in the right side of the dresser.’

‘Thanks, Mom.’

She makes her way through the hotel bedroom. Their bags are in the closet--her mother’s Mark Cross weekend bag and her father’s canvas duffle--and the door to the bathroom is open. They’ve unpacked here, too--her mother has set out her father’s shaving kit, his dopp bag gaping open, and her own things--Molton Brown shampoo, conditioner, even soap--have been put into place too.

She washes up and looks in the mirror. Sadie’s drooled all over her white tshirt--she’ll definitely need to change. She heads back to the bedroom and opens her mother’s drawer. She always keeps her tops in the second drawer and so she opens it, rummaging through her clothes--and she always packs extras--before deciding on a pale blue linen shirt. She sheds her tshirt and leaves it hanging on a towel rack in the bathroom to dry before buttoning up her shirt. She ties it at her waist instead of letting it hang loose.

By the time she reemerges her parents have brought out Sadie’s leash and clipped it on her. She looks at them for a few moments before she steps forward into the room. She is lucky. They love her.

‘Ready to go?’ Mom asks, and she nods. She takes the leash from her mother, her father squeezes her shoulder, and her mother reaches out and takes her father’s hand. She leads the way out the door, a smile on her face.

 

It is a beautiful day. They go for a walk on the Green, Sadie romping at her heels, snapping playfully at the squirrels that come her way, then head back towards her dorm to get coffee. After buying some from a vendor, they find a bench to sit while Sadie lies panting at their feet.

‘Tell us about your friend, honey,’ Mike says. ‘The one who’s comin’ to lunch tomorrow.’

‘Her name’s Annie,’ she begins, bending down to pet her spaniel. ‘She was named after the musical--you’ll see. She’s from Boston and has two older sisters. We’re in Physical Anth together.’

Before she can continue a shadow falls over them and she looks up to see Professor Skoda.

‘Hello, Liz,’ he says, and her mother looks up too to see her--what? colleague, adversary?--standing in front of them. Her professor finally tears his eyes away to look at her and her father, and he greets them with a nod of his head.

‘What are you doing here, Emil?’ Mom asks, looking utterly bewildered.

‘Well, that’s a nice greeting. I started teaching here this semester. Your daughter is in one of my classes.’

Mom looks at her and raises an eyebrow.

‘I just found out that you were colleagues,’ she says, a touch defensive.

‘Yeah, we discussed bias and the Jenny Brandt case in class yesterday.’

Her mother is suddenly tense and angry. ‘For God’s sake, Emil, when are you going to let that go? You were wrong. She could be rehabilitated. She _has_ been rehabilitated. Thanks to years of counseling, behavioral therapy--’

‘Yes, yes, we’ve had this argument before,’ Professor Skoda dismisses her. ‘I’m never going to change my mind, Liz. You’re wrong. It’s just a matter of time before she kills again, and it will be your fault.’

Mom shakes her head sadly. ‘All the years we’ve known each other, Emil, all the years that we’ve worked together, and you still can’t accept that medicine isn’t always the answer. Prison isn’t always the answer. She was ten years old! And if you and “Hang ‘Em High McCoy” had won and sent that girl away, she would have killed again and _that’s_ a guarantee.’

‘Yeah, I see where your daughter gets it,’ her professor says.

Her mother opens her mouth to respond but Mike rests his hand on her back, distracting her. She looks over at her professor. He looks relaxed and amused, hands in his pockets, his eyes picking up every nuance of her parents’ behavior.

‘So, are you still workin’ for the DA’s office, Skoda, or just manipulatin’ young minds?’

Skoda’s glance switches to Mike. ‘Well, Logan, I’d hardly call teaching “manipulating young minds.” But to answer your question, yeah, I’m still on retainer for the DA’s office.’

‘Great,’ her father drawls. ‘Well, I hope that you don’t treat your students the way you treat suspected killers.’

Skoda raises an eyebrow and laughs. ‘Well, well, Logan, I didn’t think you had a problem with my methods when I was helping you lock criminals up. But I guess it’s different when it’s your stepdaughter. And, for the record, I don’t treat my students like criminals.’

‘I should hope not, Emil,’ her mother says frostily. ‘Otherwise--’

‘Otherwise what, Liz? You’ll make a complaint?’

‘Why not?’ Mike interjects. ‘If you’re not treatin’ Caroline fairly.’

For the first time Skoda lets his carefully constructed facade slip. ‘I assure you both that I’ll treat Miss Olivet just as I would any other student in my class.’

‘Mom,’ she interrupts the stare-off. ‘Sadie’s getting restless.’

Their gazes all fix on her and for a moment she resists the urge to squirm in discomfort. Her mother’s gaze softens immediately.

‘Then let’s go,’ she says, then looks back at Skoda. ‘Emil, I’d say it was a pleasure--’

‘But you never say anything you don’t mean,’ her professor finishes, and laughs. ‘Well, I enjoyed seeing you.’

Mom relaxes all of the sudden and smiles. ‘All right. Well, we look forward to hearing about your class.’

Her professor nods at Mom, Mike, then her, and strolls off without further ado.

Both she and Mike look at her mother. ‘God, he’s infuriating,’ she says, half to herself, then looks at her. ‘Caroline, if he does _anything_ out of line--’

‘I’ll tell you,’ she says, thinking back on the way Skoda reacted to her mother. God, he still blamed her for something that happened eighteen years ago. She wasn’t sure she believed him when he said he’d treat her like any other student. He already hasn’t. And she doesn’t want to be graded unfairly--

‘Good,’ Mom says, and smiles for real. ‘Would you like to head back to the hotel?’

She nods and collects Sadie’s leash, then gives her mother a hug when they stand up.

‘I love you, Caroline,’ Mom says, holding her close. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

She closes her eyes and lets herself feel safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Over dinner at the tapas place near the hotel, Mom quizzes her on Professor Skoda’s class and she’s forced to admit her interaction with him after class yesterday. Her mother is furious--‘I did think he’d be able to control himself but I suppose I was wrong’--and encourages her to file a complaint against him.

‘Mom, please, I can handle it myself right now,’ she says, a headache starting to begin. ‘He hasn’t done anything yet. We’ll see what happens when he reads my paper about experience on bias--’

‘What did you write about?’ Mike interjects.

She grins. ‘About the conversation he had with me after class.’

Even her mother laughs at that.

‘Well, good for you, honey,’ Mike says. ‘Stick it to him.’

‘But let me know if you don’t get a good grade, Caroline, because I’m sure it’s an A-worthy paper--’

‘Mom!’ she complains, and her mother stops speaking about this at last, draining her glass of wine before excusing herself.

When she gets up from the table to use the powder room, Mike leans over and says, ‘I'll walk you back to your dorm.’ 

'Mike, it's like four blocks. If I'm capable of walking home from Dorrian's--'

He shakes his head. 'No arguments, Caroline. New Haven isn't the Upper East Side and you've had a lot goin’ on today. Just humor me, okay?'

She reluctantly nods. 

'Besides, Sadie needs her evening walk. Might as well walk you back,' he says with a deprecating smile. 'You wouldn't want to deprive her of a few more minutes of your presence, would you?'

'I guess not,' she says with better grace, accepting the excuse he offers. And anyway, he's right. A lot has happened today and she's still working through it. Better to have him walk her home. She’s still getting used to the town and campus, and it’s dark already, and she still feels off-kilter from this revelation.

When her mother doesn’t reappear right away, she takes the chance to ask Mike a few more questions.

‘Mom said that when you found out that she was pregnant, and went to her office, you told her that you wanted to be a part of my life but that she couldn’t see how it would work. What did you say to her?’

He sighs, leaning forward and looking down at his empty glass. ‘I told her that I wanted to be a part of your life, that I wanted you so much. And she reminded me that the day after… that I told her that seeing her was a mistake. That I didn’t love her anymore. And I made her believe it even though it wasn’t true.’

‘Oh,’ she says quietly, looking down at the table. She can’t meet his eyes.

‘I was so angry about a lot of things that day and I took it out on your mother. And I just… couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone when she called, or call her back, or get in touch with her. If I hadn’t seen her on the street that day I never would’ve known about you because I was just so goddamn stubborn. And it made sense that she didn’t want to take a risk with me. What she had with Ben… whatever his faults, he’s a stable guy, and at that point in our lives I’d done a lot to hurt her.’ He sighs again. ‘I don’t blame her for it, Caroline. You shouldn’t either. She did what she thought was the best thing for you at a huge cost to herself. Every decision she’s ever made--she loves you so much. She just wants you to be safe and happy and loved and she thought that throwin’ her lot in with me when you were born was gonna hurt you.’ He shrugs. ‘It probably would’ve. I just had a lot of demons to exorcise before we could make it work. But we did--that’s the important thing. It took a long time but we made it work. And I’m so sorry that it hurt you so much.’

She can feel her lower lip trembling but she fights back the tears that threaten to swamp her. ‘Thank you.’

He reaches over and squeezes her hand. ‘No matter what, honey, I’ve always loved you. And I hope you know that.’

She nods.

‘Until you were four, your mom used to take you to see me once a month. D’you remember that?’ he asks.

‘A little,’ she admits, recalling faded fragments of memories from more than a decade ago. ‘And I’ve seen pictures.’

He nods. ‘Yeah. She wrote me letters every week, y’know, telling me about you, sendin’ pictures--she did this for years.’

God, how much she must have loved him then, too, to do this for him, and how sad she must have been to write everything down, believing he’d never share it, she thinks, filled with compassion for her mother. Maybe she did do the best that she could.

Her mother rejoins them and she falls silent again, thinking over what she’s learned.

‘I’m gonna walk Caroline back to her dorm, Lizzie, and take Sadie out too.’

‘Okay,’ Mom replies, then glances over at her. ‘Are you leaving now, Caroline?’

‘I’m exhausted,’ she admits. ‘But I’ll see you in the morning?’

Mom nods. ‘Of course. Around 11? Will your friend meet us at the restaurant?’

‘No, she’ll come up to my room. Will you call me when you get to Durfee? I’ll come let you in.’

‘Sure,’ Mike says. ‘Ready to get Sadie?’

She nods.

 

Mike heads up to their room to get Sadie while she and her mother say goodnight in the lobby. 

'I'm sorry,' her mother begins. 'I'm so sorry for not telling you. I should have. You deserved to know.'

She shrugs. 'I think you did what you thought you had to do. I don't know that I agree with it,' she hastens to add. 'But I don't think you hid the truth from me for any reason besides wanting to protect me.'

Mom nods slowly. 'I wish I could have done things differently, Caroline. I made mistakes, but it was hard to know their repercussions at the time.'

'I know. I love you, Mom.'

She embraces her, holding her close. 'I love you so much, my darling, we both do.' The elevator arrives and Mike and Sadie step out. 'Have a good night's sleep and we'll see you in the morning.'

She nods and gives her mother a kiss on the cheek. 'Good night.'

Her mother strokes her hair briefly before smiling at her. She turns to Mike and says, 'all right. See you soon.'

Mike bends to kiss her mother quickly, then turns to her. 'Ready to go?'

She nods and they head out the door. 

'If you have any questions for me, Caroline, I want to answer them,' Mike says once they leave the hotel. 'No matter what they are. And if you want to keep this conversation between us, that's fine too.'

'Okay,' she begins. 'Why did you tell me you didn't want children that day in the park?'

It's easier to ask him the tough questions when she doesn't have to look at him. 

'I don't know,' he tells her. 'It was stupid and it was a lie. I'd wanted to have children with your mother. I wanted us to have a big family. And we were lucky enough to have you--I don't know what was wrong with me that day except I kind of expected that something was going to go wrong. I couldn't believe it was going to be so easy to get back together with your mother. I always thought something would fuck it up, and I did.'

'Why did you think something would mess it up?'

He sighs and scuffs his foot along the ground as they wait at a crosswalk. 'I dunno how much Lizzie has told you, but I had a rough childhood. My mom drank a lot, used to slap me around. And my dad would hit her. And Katy, Pete, and I... there was no money for food a lot of the time because it went towards booze, and my mom would drink, have a rosary in one hand and beat me with the other... growin' up like that, you come to believe you don't deserve it when somethin' good happens to you. And your mother--God, when we first got together for real, she just seemed so unattainable but for some reason she loved me, this Park Avenue doctor with half a dozen letters after her name, and she wanted to be with me, and for a detective with no college degree who grew up on the Lower East Side... it seemed like a dream. I thought she was slumming, at first. But she wasn't. She loved me. And for a long time I couldn't accept that.'

'Mike--' she whispers, stricken by his words as he described his childhood. She'd had no idea...

He looks over at her and shrugs. 'It's okay. I grew up, got out, but for a long time I couldn't believe I deserved to have you or your mother in my life.'

'You do,' she tells him quietly, and he looks over at her again and smiles. He's a good man.

'Thanks, Caroline. I hope you know--I do love you. And I'm so lucky to be your dad. I don't have a great relationship with God but--I do thank Him for you and your mother every day.'

She stops walking and hugs him. 'I love you too.'

He kisses the top of her head. 'Listen, honey, your mother and I--we want to protect you from the world. Between the two of us we've seen every bad thing that happens and it's all too common. She wanted you to be safe and loved and that's why she made the decisions she did. Even if she'd told Ben that he wasn't your father, even if they'd gotten a divorce and she and I shared custody of you... at that point in our lives I don't see how we could've gotten back together and made it work. And if we had shared custody... Christ, Caroline, I couldn't have given you a fraction of what you've had, even down to the apartment. I've always wanted you to have the world, and I couldn't give that to you then.'

She doesn't know what to say.

'Even though it may have been your mother's decision to keep you with her, to stay with Stone, it was a decision I couldn't really argue with because it was for the best. By the time you really started to get to know me, I was finally getting back to myself. Before that... y'know, I look back, and sometimes I have no idea who I was. Because the person that I am would never have hurt your mother as badly as I did.'

She dips her head in acknowledgment.

'I've been trying to make up for it over the last nine years. I dunno if I'll ever feel like I've made up for it, but I'll make sure that your mother knows that I love her--that I'll always love her--for as long as we live. And Caroline--I want you to know that I've always been so happy that you were ours, even when I couldn't admit it. Did you know I kept a photo of you on my desk for years?'

She looks at him in astonishment and he nods. 

'Yeah, one of your baby photos. Pretended you were my niece and I had to put it away when I started at Major Case 'cause Stone would've noticed, but--you were there.'

'You didn't even tell Frankie?' she asks, knowing how close he still was with his former partner. 

He shakes his head. 'No, though she figured it out a couple years ago.'

'Who else have you told?'

'Just Katy. Your mom and I talked about that. I think Katy probably told Pat, but that's it.'

She nods, still hurt that she wasn't told. 'If she knows I'm her niece, why haven't we seen her more than a few times?'

He shrugs. 'I dunno. But how about the next time you're home, we go down to visit?'

'Okay,' she agrees as they reach her dorm. 'This is me.'

They stop, awkwardly waiting in front of the doors. Sadie comes over to her and she kneels to cuddle her dog. 

'Thanks, Mike,' she says, and looks up at him. 

'Thank you, Caroline, for listening. And anything you want to know--'

She nods. 'Good night.'

'Good night.'

 

When she gets back upstairs to her suite it is dark and empty. Her suitemates must be out. Good. She isn't in the mood for conversation. 

She feels like she's been gone a year instead of only a few hours. She is exhausted but decides to take a bath first. Water has always been able to soothe the rough edges of the day, and there were many. 

Uncovering this secret was one thing, but learning all of these things about her family... she'd had no idea that her mother had been raped, that Mike had been abused as a child, that he had hurt her so much. And knowing all of that now, she can't blame her mother for holding onto the safety of her marriage.

When her mother and Mike got together at last, when they got engaged, Mom was a completely different person. It was so clear to her and it made her wonder why she hadn't just gotten back together with Mike when she had the chance. Well, Mike answered that question--because of her. Because Mom wanted her to have a good, safe life. And she has, at a great cost to her mother's happiness. 

She hadn't expected to feel guilty.


	7. Chapter 7

He waits outside Caroline's dorm until he sees the lights turn on in her room, then he heads back to the hotel with Sadie. He'd always wanted a dog growing up and because Caroline had been at Farmington when he presented her to his daughter, taking care of the springer spaniel fell to him. He enjoyed it. Now that he was doing security consulting, he had way more time in his life plus regular hours, and walking the dog around the reservoir or going for a run with her in the park was a good way to stay in shape. 

When they get back to the hotel he hurries through the lobby to the elevator, eager to get back to Lizzie. He unlocks the door and steps into the suite--and even after all these years with her he isn't used to this--and finds her in bed, laptop open, his reading glasses perched on her nose.

'I'm glad she let you walk her back,' she says, her attention fixed on the screen. 'I'm surprised.'

'I guilt tripped her,' he admits, 'told her it'd be rude to deprive Sadie of her company for even a few minutes.'

She glances up at him over his reading glasses and smiles. 'I love you.'

'Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but what was that for?' he asks, kicking off his shoes. 

'I'm just glad that she knows and seems to be taking it well.'

He nods, getting up from the chair and walking over to her side. 'What are you doing?' he asks. 

‘Finishing up this report for Olivia.’

‘I wish you weren’t working for SVU,’ he says, again, for the dozenth time since she switched from Felonies and Homicide to Sex Crimes. Every time she counseled a rape victim, every time she profiled a rapist, it brought back her own rape. He hates seeing her go through that all the time.

She sighs. ‘I know, Mike. But I can do more good at SVU than I can in Felonies or Homicide. At least I can counsel victims--’

‘I know,’ he interrupts, sitting down on the bed next to her. They’ve already had this same conversation a dozen times in the past month or so. He doesn’t want to have it again, not when it’s been such tough twenty four hours.

When Caroline called them last night, they were afraid for her. She’d never cried like that--Liz was terrified that someone had hurt her. It came as something of a relief that she was upset because they’d lied to her for eighteen years.

It hurt every day that they didn’t tell her, but they could never find the right time to do it. It was a bad excuse, and it obviously hurt her, but every time either he or Liz brought it up, something would happen that would set that discussion aside again. It was wrong of them to let it go this long without telling her. He hated lying to her--he knew Liz did too--and most of all he hated letting her go off to France for a month every summer to spend time with Stone. He didn’t care about her, he didn’t love her, and he wasn’t her father. She inevitably ended up spending three quarters of her time with her friends the Montignys.

‘How are you handling this?’ Liz asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looks at his wife. He can’t get over that, either--that they finally were together, even though they got married nine years ago. And they’ve had a happy marriage. And he’s still so goddamn lucky every day to wake up to her, to spend their lives together, to be together… 

He shrugs in response to her question. ‘I mean, I’m relieved we don’t have to keep lying. But I think she’s hurting, Lizzie.’

She nods solemnly. ‘I think so too. I don’t know what we can do to help her--’

‘What, your triple-digit IQ not useful here?’ he teases, and she smiles.

‘From a clinical perspective, I would say that we need to make sure she knows that we love her. That we wanted her. From my perspective as her mother, I’d say the same thing. I’d like her to find a therapist, though, to talk to. Or at least have her talk to Eliza. She needs someone who isn’t us to confide in. God, I wish we had just told my parents, Peter, and Miranda years ago. Miranda would have been the perfect person for Caroline.’

He runs his thumb over her kneecap. ‘When are we gonna tell them?’

She shrugs. ‘Whenever Caroline wants to. Now that it’s out, though, I just want to get it over with. I just pray that my parents don’t stop talking to me.’

‘You know they won’t, Lizzie,’ he says gently. ‘They might not understand, but they’re not gonna cut you out.’

‘I wish I could be so sure,’ she admits.

‘They love you. If this was Caroline--if she’d hidden something like this from us--yeah, we might not understand. But we’d love her and support her any way we can. It’s not gonna be different with your parents.’

She rests her hand on top of his, stilling his movements, and he looks up at her.

‘I’m so grateful she is yours,’ she tells him. She’s said it so many times over the years, but every time--God, looking at their daughter, he feels the deepest sense of relief that they didn’t miss out on having a child, that she is theirs, that despite years of senseless separation Caroline exists. He’s grateful. He’s so grateful for Lizzie, and Caroline--for their family. And while he regrets a lot of things about his life, the consequence of that night was never one of them.

‘Me too,’ he tells her, and watches as she smiles.

 

He watches her sleep later, her nightshirt in a pile on the floor, light cotton sheet draping over her. She’s still so beautiful and he’s still so lucky. Being with her, he’s always known that he was lucky, but after they got married--the knowledge that they were each other’s--it changed his life, in a very real sense. He finally, finally, was at peace with himself. He knew that they wouldn’t lose each other again.

She’s fifty-six now. It’s hard for him to believe that they first got together over a quarter of a century ago. He’s lucky. He never thought of himself as a lucky person but getting another chance with Lizzie… having their daughter… they’ve been lucky even when they haven’t been. And now he has everything he’s ever wanted. It’s a strange feeling, but a good one.

She stirs in her sleep, stretching then moving closer to him. Wanting her, only her, he moves closer and gathers her in his arms. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he lets himself drift off.

 

He wakes in the morning to the sound of his wife on the phone.

‘...you sure, darling? Okay. Mike’s still asleep, let me get him up. Hmm, an hour? Okay. I love you.’ She hangs up the phone and turns to him. 

‘Caroline?’

‘Yes. She called my parents this morning and told them that we needed to talk. They're expecting us to come down.’

‘Okay--what about lunch with her friend?’

‘She said she texted her and rescheduled for the next time we’re here.’ She shakes her head. ‘God, Mike, sometimes I wish she didn’t get the impulsive gene from you.’

He laughs. ‘She looks exactly like you, Lizzie, she had to get something from me.’

She makes a face at him and then dissolves into reluctant laughter. ‘Okay, we've got to get going. Caroline will be here in under an hour.’

‘Okay,’ he says, flipping off the covers. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed last night--she didn’t either, choosing to pull the blanket around her while she answered the phone--and he can see the sudden desire in her eyes. It still turns his heart over, all these years later, that she loves him and wants him so much. He certainly has grown to want her even more as the years pass. 

‘We don’t have time,’ she says, more to convince herself. ‘You can use the bathroom first.’

He grins at her. ‘You sure? You look a little stressed, I could help with that.’

‘Later,’ she promises, restricting herself to giving him a peck on the cheek. ‘I promise.’

He returns her kiss, then gives her a little slap on the backside, disappearing into the bathroom with the sound of her surprised laughter in his ears.

 

Caroline appears, promptly, an hour later. She’s dressed well, in a nice pair of slacks and one of the tops she brought back from Paris, a large purse in her hand. But despite her nice attire she looks tired, not just from lack of sleep.

‘Hi, honey,’ he says, not sure how to greet her now--does she want a hug? He’d like to hug her--but she solves that problem by setting her purse down and wrapping her arms around his waist. He drops a kiss on the top of her head and holds her tight. He hears Liz open the door to the bathroom and come out; Caroline does too, and pulls back from him.

‘Good morning, darling,’ Liz says, coming over to them. ‘We’re almost ready.’

Caroline nods, withdrawing into herself again, and Liz rests her hand on her shoulder and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

‘Um, I’ll get my stuff,’ he tells them, wanting to give them some space. They don’t respond; they’re both wrapped up in each other.

‘Are you all right?’ he hears his wife ask.

Caroline’s response is an inaudible murmur.

‘They won't be mad at you, my darling. They could never be mad at you. And besides--you did nothing wrong.’ There's a pause, another murmur, then Lizzie says, ‘we're not mad either, or upset, or anything other than concerned. We just want you to be happy and well.’

He grabs his stuff--wallet, keys, sunglasses--and heads back to the living room. They're hugging, Lizzie holding Caroline tight, and he feels relieved that at least Caroline doesn't seem to be blaming her. 

She’s handling it better than he did.

God, when he thinks about it… he spent years, almost a decade, blaming Liz for what happened. It was only after he left the Force, after he stopped and really thought about it, that he realized that she made the only decisions she could.

She’d called him so many times after their night together, begged him to call her back, but he never did. He’d thought to himself that he might as well give her a taste of her own medicine, all those times he’d called in the weeks after Claire… he’d had no idea she was calling for a very real reason. And when he’d found out… 

He’d wanted to be a part of her life, of their lives, so badly. He just didn’t know how to make it work other than telling her that, and she was always the levelheaded one in their relationship. When she said no… when she told him she would stay with Stone… he doesn’t even want to think about how it was. Because he wanted to hurt her, too, after she’d hurt him, and he was always better at that than she was.

And so time passed and he kept hurting her because that was the only thing he knew how to do when he was hurting so badly. He had no idea until much later how much her decisions had pained her.

But they ended up together, at last. Finally. That last time--the day he’d decided to retire, when he’d driven up to see them in Darien--he vowed to himself that he’d make it work this time if only they got another chance. And they did, and he did, and finally--

‘Mike?’ Lizzie asks. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘Yeah,’ he tells her. ‘I’m ready.’

 

It’s only an hour drive down to Contentment Island. Caroline is lying stretched out in the backseat, her hand resting on Sadie’s back, and Liz is curled up in the passenger seat, shifting her gaze from their daughter to him throughout the drive.

‘When were you happiest?’ Caroline asks once they hit the highway. ‘The first time you were together.’

Well, he knows Liz’s answer, it’s something they recreated this summer… he watches in amusement as a blush spreads across her face.

‘We went sailing one summer,’ she tells their daughter. ‘The second time I took Mike out on the _Selkie_. We went away for a long weekend. It was perfect.’

Caroline nods, her gaze fixed at the sky outside the sunroof. ‘And you, Mike?’

He runs a hand through his hair. He has a lot of happy memories, and all of them were his happiest, but one-- ‘I took your mom to meet Katy,’ he says. ‘A couple months after we made it official. And I’d already met your family because I’d come up for Boxing Day, but I asked Lizzie to come meet Katy. And after lunch, we went home, and I thanked her for wantin’ to meet her, for makin’ a big effort with them. And I told her that I loved her and I wanted to stay with her as long as she’d have me around.’ He catches Liz’s gaze and smiles at her. ‘And your mom threw her arms around me and said that she loved me so much and she wanted me around forever.’

Caroline turns her head and looks at them. ‘That’s lovely,’ she admits.

‘I thought so,’ he agrees. ‘I have a lot of happy memories with your mom, but that one… that was a special one.’

Lizzie reaches out and squeezes his knee. ‘I meant it then, and I meant it when we got married, and I mean it now.’

Caroline falls silent again and closes her eyes, then asks, ‘how could you let each other go, if you loved each other so much?’

He doesn't know what to say to that.

‘I don’t know,’ Lizzie says at last. ‘I don’t know. If it happened again… almost any obstacle is insurmountable, darling, when it comes to the person you love. When you find that person… hold on tight. Because sometimes you don’t get another chance. Your father and I… God, we were so lucky, so lucky, and I’ve never stopped being grateful for that.’

It’s his turn to squeeze her knee, and she takes his hand, holding it to her heart. ‘I love you,’ he tells her, voice soft.

‘I love you.’

He knows that their daughter has heard every word. He hopes it helps her. They don’t speak for the rest of the ride.

 

As they turn onto the road to Contentment Island, he once again feels that “avenue fever” Lizzie told him about years ago. This time, he’s nervous as hell. Despite telling Lizzie her parents weren’t gonna cut them out, he doesn’t know if that is the case. And losing her parents… it would break her heart. He just prays they’re gonna listen.

Caroline is sitting up in the back now, her face suddenly drawn and pale. He recognizes that look. She’s regretting it. Lizzie looks sick to her stomach. He’s just trying to hold it together. He drives the car up their pebble-covered driveway and parks in front of the house. They all get out of the car and stare at it for a moment.

‘You ready?’ he asks them. 

Lizzie shoots him a look of mingled exasperation, amusement, and fear. Caroline takes a deep breath.

‘We’ll follow your lead, Caroline,’ Lizzie says. 

‘I want you to tell them,’ Caroline tells her. 

Lizzie looks even more sick, if possible, but she nods and offers their daughter a tentative, tight smile. Caroline returns it, then starts for the door, the two of them following.


	8. Chapter 8

She's never been so scared of telling her parents anything in her life. This is one of the reasons she'd offered when they discussed telling Caroline, and put it off; one of his was that he'd finally formed a good relationship with her and didn't want to ruin it. And so years passed, ten years since they got back together, and finally the decision was taken out of her hands. 

She doesn't want to ruin her relationship with them, or hurt them--or Peter and Miranda, or Teddy and Chrissy… oh, God, she can't lose her parents… 

They are waiting for them in the sunroom and she hovers in the doorway as Caroline goes to greet them, wanting to preserve this moment as a last happy one if they are angry… she hugs them tight when Caroline disappears into the kitchen to see Nina, and she summons up all her courage.

‘What is it, darling?’ her mother asks, so familiar and loved and oh, God, she can't tell them, can't ruin it--

Mike squeezes her shoulder, and she turns and looks at him, and then, not facing her parents, she says, ‘when I was married to Ben, I had an affair. With Mike. And he is Caroline's father.’

There's silence, and after thirty long seconds she turns and looks at them. Her parents look exactly the same, not angry, and her mother says, ‘Thank you for telling us at last, darling, but we've known for years.’

She stares at them in shock. 

Her father says, ‘When I went to collect your things, when you were staying here when Caroline was a few months old, remember? I brought back the bunny for Caroline. Tony told me that Michael had dropped it off, and I read the note.’ He pauses, then says, ‘we told Peter and Miranda. And it doesn't matter to us, darling, it never has.’

She can’t take it in, and then she hears herself laugh, a laugh which borders on frenzy. ‘So all these years,’ she says, ‘all these years, we’ve been lying to each other, when you’ve known all along and it never mattered, and--’ she doesn’t know what else to say. Mike squeezes her shoulder and she turns to him and weeps, in despair and relief and hope for the future and--and everything over the past eighteen years, when she’d needed their support but couldn’t, couldn’t tell them in case she lost them, in case she lost her daughter… he holds her tight, and she feels her mother hug her too, and her father squeeze her shoulder, and she is grateful, so grateful, she didn’t lose them.

 

Later, when Caroline rejoins them, she lets her mother explain. Words are beyond her. She sits and they have lunch and she looks around the table and thinks to herself, _this is my family_.

It’s the first time she’s ever allowed herself to acknowledge it.

 

She knows that this is only the beginning, though. She’ll need to tell Teddy and Chrissy, per Caroline’s request. And perhaps, at some point, Caroline will want to tell Ben. Lying in bed in the hotel room, she shudders. She can’t imagine doing that; not when she found out she was pregnant, not after Caroline was born, and not now.

But she doesn’t need to think about that now. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she reminds herself, a maxim she firmly believes. They’ve seen so much evil, too… 

She thinks back on the rest of the day. After her mother told Caroline what had happened, Caroline had… eased into the knowledge. She hadn’t perhaps fully accepted it, or her reasons, but it was clearly a relief to her that her grandparents had always known and had accepted that knowledge. Caroline announced she’d told Nina, too, who appeared briefly to say hello and actually addressed Mike by name for the first time… ever. He’d been astonished--she had been, too.

God, it was a relief to have this over with, she thinks, yawning and stretching. After lunch they’d all played croquet for a while, even Mike who hated it, and then after tea they’d said goodbye and drove back to New Haven.

The rest of the afternoon was spent taking a walk around the Green, then going to dinner at the Belgian place they’d planned to go to for lunch. The restaurant was great--the food was delicious, and Mike always loved a place with a good beer list. And then they’d walked their daughter--and God, what a relief it is to say it out loud, after all these years--they’d walked their daughter back to her dorm and parted with hugs and kisses, and then they’d come back to the room, where they are now.

She’d taken a quick shower while he fed Sadie, and now he’s in the shower and she’s lying in bed in a robe. There was no reason to change into clothes, not when she has plans for the evening… she smiles to herself. 

Being married to him--finally, after all these years--it was everything she’d ever wanted. And since his retirement from the Force they’d had so much more time to spend together, to be a family with their daughter, to be a couple when she was away at school… she was so grateful every day that they found their way back to each other at last. Things had only gotten better… and as he opens the door to the bathroom, stepping out wearing only a towel, she smiles as her heartbeat quickens. Oh, yes, things had only gotten better.

‘What’s got you smilin’?’ he asks her, and she opens her arms to him, letting her bear her down into the bed as he tugs the belt of her robe loose.

‘I love you,’ she tells him, and he grins at her.

‘I love you, Lizzie.’

 

Later she lies with her head resting on his chest, letting him run his fingers through her hair. She's kept it short, in recent years, like it was when they first met. 

‘What's on your mind?’ he asks, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘I’m grateful,’ she says softly, sleepily. ‘For you. For our daughter. Our family.’

‘Me too,’ he tells her. ‘We’re lucky, Lizzie. We’re so lucky.’

She nods against his chest. He continues to stroke her hair, and she closes her eyes, letting herself drift off to sleep.

 

When she wakes in the morning she still feels utterly, utterly content. There’s still a lot to manage--Caroline is hurting, she knows, and she will be for some time--but at last the secret is out, and she feels all the better for it.

Her husband--husband! It still brings her such joy to say it, think it--is still sleeping, sprawled in the tangled sheets. She feels her heartbeat quicken, but--no, not now, as much as she’d love to join him and wake him up with a kiss… she forces herself to turn away and take a shower.

While she’s showering she thinks. She has a lot on her mind, from Mike telling her he’d like them to have their own place together, one that’s just theirs, to memories of the early days of their engagement, to this revelation and when she was pregnant with Caroline… 

She’s kept journals all her life. She doesn’t write every day, but she does most days, and she has so many that Caroline might like to read. She’d started a new one when she found out she was pregnant, and another new one when Caroline was born. She liked to be able to organize her life like that--which was impossible, of course, but she could do it in her journals.

Maybe Caroline would like to read them. She’d spent so much time writing in them, trying to come to terms with her decisions and, indeed, trying to decide… and that journal, the one she wrote during that time, is such an accurate reflection of her mind at that time. She’d been so confused… she’d been so lost… maybe it would help Caroline to learn what was going through her mind at that time. Maybe it would help her to understand the decisions she’d made.

She’d always written her journals as exact reflections of her mind at the time of the writing. She often didn’t read them again, though she’d read that journal many, many times over the years, trying to figure out what else she could have done. Each time she came to the same conclusion.

She made the only decision she could.

She runs a soapy hand over her face. She wishes she could have been brave enough, all those years ago, to take the leap. To show up at his apartment, to tell him she was pregnant, to divorce Ben. But she wasn’t. She just… she wasn’t brave enough, and she still regrets that all these years later. She hadn’t even been brave enough to tell her daughter about her father…

Well, Caroline knows now, and she’ll do whatever it takes to help her daughter through this.

She rinses the shampoo from her hair. Mike had told her, a couple weeks ago, that he wanted them to have their own place. She told him she’d think about it, and she has--but she can’t imagine giving up their apartment, where she’s lived all of her life, the apartment where they lived together and where they loved each other, where she brought their daughter home… and the Southampton house will come to them, and Contentment Island too… well, her mother’s share of the property is part of a trust for her, and her child, and her child’s future children… it just doesn’t make sense to buy another house, and he’s bored in the country, and their apartment… she supposes they’ll give the apartment to Caroline when she’s ready for it, but that won’t be for a few years… 

_Oh!_ she thinks suddenly. They could buy a boat. He’d learned to sail properly, to skipper the _Selkie_ , years ago to surprise her for their honeymoon. And they loved taking her out, but she wasn’t theirs… and she was getting old, too. That’s what they’ll do. And when Caroline is ready for the apartment… well, they’ll talk about finding one, or renovating one, for them then.

She turns off the shower and steps out onto the soft rug, smiling to herself. She knew there’d be a way. She wants him to be happy. This will be a good way. Her mind races ahead. Teddy still has his slip at the 79th Street Boat Basin, but he’s been talking about moving his boat back up to Connecticut permanently. They could take it over, have the boat here in the city, go sailing whenever they wanted… yes.

This will be perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

Yesterday was better than she’d thought it could be, and she is relieved that it went well, that somehow her grandparents had figured it out years ago. Her mother was so scared to tell them… and she was, too. She didn't want her grandparents to be angry with her mother, even if she still was… or was she? She doesn't know how to feel. 

Eliza and Kip had been out sailing while they were on the island, so she'd missed them, but it was kind of nice just to be with her parents and grandparents and have an easy afternoon. They loved her--they'd all always loved her, but she knows it now with such certainty it makes her glad. 

The rest of their day had been so easy and natural. They'd gone back to New Haven after lunch and croquet and walked the Green, then had dinner at the Belgian place, which was delicious. And then her parents brought her back to her dorm, and her roommates were out, thank God, and she’d opened her laptop and logged into ProQuest and looked for articles about her mother.

And, oh, God… there were so many after she was--raped. She can't even say it. It's heartbreaking to think. She reads them all, from the first one with her mother’s debutante portrait next to a police photograph of the rapist’s dead second wife sprawled on his desk, naked except for a leather hood and harness, to one of her parents walking near their apartment, Mike’s hand on her mother’s back, a long article speculating on their relationship, to one with her mother and grandparents in front of the courthouse after the trial, to the conclusion of it all, when he was sentenced to life in prison. 

She hopes he rots in jail. He's in Dannemora, she supposes, and she hopes that everything he did is revisited on him a hundredfold. 

She never thought she'd feel so… vindictive about anything, or want revenge, but… by God, that man hurt her mother far more than the actual assault. And his actions had affected her life, too, she realizes. His actions had inadvertently torn her parents apart, and if he hadn't… maybe Mom and Mike would have been married. Maybe she'd have siblings. She wouldn't have grown up with Ben, but if she hadn't she would not have met Lucas…

Shit, she thinks. They were supposed to Skype last night… she hurriedly opens the app on her laptop, and there are several missed calls and a few messages asking where she is and if she's all right. Before she can type a response, he calls her. She accepts the call immediately and then his familiar, beloved, handsome face fills the screen.

‘Caroline! I was worried,’ he tells her, and he looks it. ‘Are you all right?’

She sees her image in the corner of the screen and winces. She looks a mess--her hair is tousled and she has the imprint of her pillow’s scalloped edge embedded in her cheek. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ignoring his question. ‘Mom and Mike--they came up a day early, and we had to go down to Contentment.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What happened?’

She wants to tell him, she does, but with the distance of 3,500 miles she doesn’t know that she can.

‘It’s too much to explain over Skype. I wish you were here,’ she tells him, then adds, in French, ‘I miss you, Lucas.’

‘I miss you too, my darling,’ he says, his serious expression giving away to a smile. ‘And I have a surprise for you.’ She’s eager for some good news, so she nods, prompting him to exclaim, ‘I have a job!’

‘Congratulations!’ she tells him, thrilled for him. He’d graduated from the Sorbonne in June, spent the summer with her in Paris when she was staying with her father and then in Hyères when she joined his family, then came to New York with her for a few weeks. She’s so glad they could spend so much time together, but it had put off his job search. He’s been trying to join the diplomatic service, like his uncle, but didn’t want to use family connections to secure a position. ‘What is the job?’

He’s beaming at her. ‘A position at the French Mission to the United Nations.’

It takes a few seconds to sink in, then she says, in a cloud of dawning hope and disbelief, ‘You’ll be in New York?’

He’s grinning fit to burst. ‘I’ll be in New York. I didn't want to tell you about it in case I didn't get it, but… my flight lands on Friday. Can you come this weekend?’

‘Of course!’ she says with alacrity. ‘When do you arrive? Where will you be living?’

‘Two in the afternoon,’ he tells her. ‘I'm flying into JFK. I have a suite at the Plaza Athénée until I find an apartment.’

She grins. ‘My last class finishes at 10 am on Friday,’ she says. ‘I'll take the train down right after class and meet you at the hotel.’

‘I can't wait, my darling,’ he tells her. ‘I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too,’ she echoes, and God, she does. They’ve been a couple for nearly a year now but they’ve been separated for so long… she can’t wait to be close to him again.

‘It’s a five year assignment,’ he tells her without prompting. ‘Plenty of time for you to finish at Yale.’

She’s thrilled that he’s planning this, that he’s thinking of a future for them, because even though she’s eighteen and he’s twenty-one, the way she feels about him… she wonders if this is what her mother felt, feels, for Mike, because if it is… she can’t imagine ever letting go.

‘Good,’ she tells him, dragging her thoughts back to the present. ‘Oh, Lucas…’ 

Her phone beeps and she looks at it--her mother texting her, asking if she wants to meet for breakfast in an hour.

‘Do you have to go?’ he asks.

She nods. ‘It’s my mother. She wants us to meet for breakfast.’

‘All right, my love,’ he says gently, and smiles at her. She barely restrains herself from reaching out to stroke his cheek. Oh, she can’t wait until Friday… 

‘I love you,’ she tells him, and he smiles.

‘I love you too. Let’s talk tomorrow, if you have time. And I’ll see you Friday.’

‘I’ll see you Friday,’ she echoes, and then they hang up.

She hugs herself. She’s so lucky. She can’t wait to see him.

 

An hour later she walks through the hotel lobby to meet her parents in their room. She’s still walking on air--she can’t wait. She’s thrilled. She’s missed him, and being able to see him every weekend… and all summer… and all of her breaks… oh, it will be so wonderful.

Her mother opens the door and she smiles.

‘You’re very happy,’ Mom remarks, stepping back to let her inside. ‘Did you have a good night’s sleep?’

She says, ‘Lucas got a job! At the French Mission to the UN. He’ll be here on Friday for five years!’

Mike emerges from the bathroom. ‘That’s great, Caroline.’

‘Yes, that’s wonderful news,’ her mother says, gracefully sinking into an armchair. ‘I assume you’ll be coming home this weekend, then?’

She nods, though of course she doesn’t plan to stay at the apartment. Her parents know that, and exchange a glance while she blushes.

‘Well, we hope you both will join us for dinner,’ her mother says, smiling a secret, serene smile.

She nods again.

Mike rubs his hands together. ‘Can we get breakfast before we hit the road?’

Her mother laughs. ‘All right. Darling, you ready?’ she asks her.

‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘I’m ready.’

 

But at breakfast she has no idea how she can say goodbye, not yet, not to her mother. When Mike gets up to pay the bill, she looks at her. Mom is looking down at her cup of coffee and she realizes that she looks tired. This has taken a toll on her too, she thinks.

‘Mom,’ she says suddenly. ‘I know that Mike has to get back but can you please stay a little longer? Another night?’

Her mother looks up at her, her startled expression softening as she meets her gaze. She needs her mother right now, she thinks, and her mother recognizes that too, because she smiles.

‘Of course, darling. I’ll stay tonight, take the train back tomorrow.’ She pauses, then says, ‘you’re welcome to stay at the hotel with me, if you want.’

She nods. She does want that. For a long time after the divorce, she slept in her mother’s room. She loved that… she felt warm and safe and loved, and even though after her mother married Mike that part of their lives stopped, she wants her mother to hold her and soothe her and love her, and tell her stories about her life, and tell her about her father.

‘Great,’ Mom says, and smiles. ‘Well, why don’t we have a relaxing afternoon? We can get massages and manicures, hmm, then order room service for dinner and watch a movie?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ she replies, and it does. It sounds wonderful--they used to do this all the time, once a month, but it stopped when she went to Farmington… it’s nice to revive the tradition now. 

‘Great,’ Mom says again. ‘The hotel apparently had a very nice spa. Why don't you run and get what you need for tonight from your room, after we say goodbye to Mike, and I'll make us appointments?’

‘Can we get pedicures too?’ she asks, and her mother laughs. 

‘And a facial, if you’d like,’ she says. ‘Anything you’d like, Caroline.’

She knows that she’s not just talking about spa treatments.

‘I know,’ she replies. ‘Thank you.’

Suddenly, unexpectedly, her mother takes her face in her hands and leans forward, kissing her forehead. ‘I love you, Caroline. I will never stop being grateful that I get to be your mother. I love you.’

She looks at her mother, this woman she’s loved for all her life, this woman who looks like the woman she’ll become, and she says, ‘I love you too, Mommy.’

Her mother kisses her once more before releasing her, and then they look up and Mike has rejoined them.

‘I’m going to stay tonight,’ Mom tells Mike. ‘Caroline and I are going to spend some time together.’

A novel passes between them in a single shared glance, and she wonders idly if she and Lucas will ever be able to communicate like this.

After a moment, Mike nods. ‘Sure. You’ll take the train down tomorrow, then?’ he asks, and Mom nods. ‘Great.’ He looks at her and smiles. ‘And you’ll take care of your mom, right?’

‘Yes,’ she promises. ‘I will.’

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Well, I need to head out. I’ll get Sadie and you can reserve the room for tonight, yeah?’

‘Yes,’ her mother says, and rises from her seat. ‘Are you ready, Caroline?’

‘I’m ready,’ she says, and stands up too.

 

They say goodbye to her father--her mother with a deep kiss that she blushes to see, and her with a hug that’s returned with affection. They watch as he drives off, waving, and then her mother turns to her when the car disappears. 

‘Do you want me to come with you back to your dorm?’ Mom asks.

She shakes her head. ‘I’m just going to grab my things quickly, my laptop and books for tomorrow,’ she says. ‘Then I’ll be back.’

‘Okay,’ Mom says easily. ‘I’ll meet you in the room.’ She hands her the extra key and sends her off with a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

She gets back to the hotel forty minutes later, at a quarter to twelve, having grabbed her things for tomorrow, texted Annie to make plans for dinner tomorrow night, called Eliza to give her a quick update, and emailed Isabelle to say how excited she is to see Lucas. Her mother is at the desk in the hotel room, typing furiously on her laptop, brow furrowed.

‘Just give me a minute, darling,’ her mother says without looking up.

She nods, even though her mother can’t see her, and goes into the bedroom to unpack her clothes. She hears the typing stop as she finishes unpacking her things and she pops her head back into the living room. Her mother has closed the laptop and she looks over at her.

‘Done,’ her mother says with relief. ‘I had to send that report to Olivia. Sorry about that.’ She smiles at her. ‘So, I’ve made appointments for a massage, facial, and manicures and pedicures for us, starting at 1. Do you want a snack before?’

‘No, I’m all right. Thanks for doing this, Mom,’ she says, and her mother smiles.

‘Anything for you, my darling.’ Mom leans back in the chair and studies her.

She fights the urge to squirm under her calm scrutiny. Instead she asks, ‘How did you and Mike first get together?’

A faint flush colors her mother’s cheeks. ‘We worked together,’ she begins. ‘You know that. And that he was my patient. But… anyway, we were investigating this case, and I was helping. There was a woman who witnessed the crime when she was a child but she couldn’t remember, so I suggested we walk through the day of the crime. And we did, and she remembered… Mike and I walked her home, and it was summer. It was hot. And we got ice cream.’

‘Ice cream?’ she asks, amused that the start of their tumultuous relationship began with something so simple.

Her mother smiles, lost in the past. ‘Yes. It was his birthday. And I didn’t know, and we went out to dinner… we went to Melon’s.’

Ah, she thinks. That’s why they love it there so much.

‘...and we really started to get to know each other--as people, not as colleagues. And… well, I don’t know if you’ve picked up on this, but your father had a quite a reputation. He was the Warren Beatty of the NYPD.’ She laughs, irresistibly amused. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to let him persuade me into bed, even though I'd already discovered I was desperately attracted to him. But we had a few drinks and were at Melon’s for hours, then when we left he offered to walk me home. And then--’

‘Please don’t go into the details,’ she says quickly, and her mother laughs again.

‘I won’t. But anyway, after that, we had a couple of false starts but finally got together. And… it was wonderful. He was wonderful back then, and now, and in between too. We were lucky.’

She nods. She had heard about Mike’s reputation--it had been referenced in many toasts at their wedding--and she’s glad that her parents made it work despite that.

Her mother says, ‘Tell me about you and Lucas.’

She feels herself blush and she drops her gaze to her lap. ‘Things are… good,’ she says, her mind supplying images of just what “good” means. Her blush deepens.

‘Would you care to elaborate?’

She runs a hand through her hair. ‘Today, when we Skyped… when he said it was a five-year assignment, he told me that it would be plenty of time for me to finish Yale.’ She feels a grin steal over her face. ‘I love him.’

‘That’s wonderful, darling,’ her mother says, her voice soft. ‘And have you told him that?’

She nods. ‘He loves me, too. We said it for the first time this summer, when we were in Paris.’

Her mother hums in approval. ‘Of course, it’s good that you’ve known each other for a decade, almost--you know each other quite well. You’re friends as well as a couple, and that’s important.’

‘Yes,’ she agrees, and chances a glance at her mother. She’s leaning back in her chair, looking at her though her gaze is unfocused, and her fingertips are pressed together as they are when she’s pondering something. ‘I want to be with him,’ she admits, and her mother focuses on her again.

‘I want you to promise me something, darling,’ she says, and she nods slowly. ‘You are young. No, I know that you’re an adult, let me finish,’ she says, holding up a hand to stave off the immediate protest that rises to her lips. ‘You’re eighteen, darling, and so smart and clever and mature, but still young. And I know that you love Lucas. Anyone looking at him when you two are together knows that he loves you, too. But I want you to wait till after you finish college to get married and to move with him if he’s transferred somewhere. Can you promise me that?’

She nods.

‘Good,’ she says, and sighs. ‘I know how you feel, Caroline,’ she shares. ‘I wasn’t much older than you when I fell in love for the first time.’

‘With Luc?’ she asks, remembering the name from several half-conversations on the subject.

‘Mm,’ she agrees, lost in her own world.

‘Will you tell me about him?’

She smiles to herself. ‘Yes, but later, all right? After our day of pampering. It’s a long story, and I think it’s time to go.’

She looks at the clock--it’s a quarter to one, her mother is right. She stands up and Mom does too.

‘To be continued,’ Mom says, and she smiles.

‘To be continued.’

 

The massage is just what she needed, and the facial, manicure, and pedicure were lovely treats too. By the time they return to their room, completely and utterly pampered, she’s ready for a long shower and a nap and a snack.

‘You can take a shower first, darling,’ her mother says. ‘I’m going to check my email.’

She nods and heads to the bathroom, relishing the good water pressure and the waterfall showerhead. Very different from her dorm, she thinks with satisfaction, stepping out of the shower.

Her mother is asleep on the bed when she gets out, still dressed, and she takes a minute to look at her from the foot of her bed. She still looks so much younger than her age, she thinks, and then a wave of exhaustion swamps her. She pulls out her phone, sets an alarm for an hour, and climbs into bed next to her mother, falling asleep almost before her head hits the pillow.

 

She wakes to the sound of her mother’s low chuckle in the other room. 

‘Yes, darling, I promise, I'll give you a massage when I get home… not sure what train yet, I'll let you know… all right. Tell Frankie hello from me and say that I'd love it if she could come to dinner soon… love you so much.’

Her alarm goes off as her mother finishes her conversation and Mom appears again. 

‘Did you have a good nap?’ she asks, and she nods in response. ‘Me too. I need about a gallon of water, I think, then a shower, then half the room service menu.’

She laughs. ‘Me too, except I already took a shower.’

Mom smiles. ‘I'll get the water, then, and the menu--why don't you choose what you want while I shower? Then we can order.’

‘Perfect,’ she agrees, and accepts a bottle of water from the minibar and the menu a few moments later. She opens the bottle as her mother goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, and after a long swallow she opens the menu. She's suddenly starving and does want about half the menu. She should probably be good and get a caesar salad… but there are fried oysters and lobster rolls and burgers on the menu… 

Her mother emerges from the bathroom, wearing a robe, toweling her hair. ‘What looks good, darling?’

‘Everything,’ she admits, and her mother laughs. ‘There are fried oysters, and lobster rolls, and burgers, and steaks…’

Her mother joins her on the sofa and peers at the menu. ‘Hmm, you’re right, everything does look good. Well, I say we order what we like, and we can share things, and if there are leftovers you can take them back with you tomorrow.’

‘Good plan,’ she tells her mother, grinning, feeling like a little girl again. They've done this a few times--for her first birthday after the separation they'd booked a suite at the Plaza and she pretended to be Eloise for the weekend… 

They decide on a burger, a lobster roll, an order of the oysters, a cheese plate, and the brownie a la mode for dessert. Then her mother says that their order isn’t nearly enough, and they add the rest of the dessert menu, too, and a bottle of the most expensive champagne on the list.

‘Are we going to eat in here…?’ she asks her mother, looking around the living room. 

Mom laughs. ‘Of course not! It's practically a contractual obligation that if you order room service you have to eat it in bed. Let's choose a movie while we wait, hmm?’

She grins. If you didn't know Mom, or only knew her professionally, you'd think she was the most serious, calm person in the world. That's not the case, though--she's fun and playful and she's lucky, lucky, lucky to have such a great mom. They've never even argued like her friends argue with their mothers. There's no need--they respect each other. Even if she didn't tell her--no, she thinks, pushing away the resentment that bubbles up. She didn't tell anyone, no one who mattered, not even Aunt Chrissy. She had her reasons, which have been shared with her, and she understands--a little, at least, even if she can't fully understand because she wasn't there. And--she can accept them, eventually. Because--thinking back to that day in the park, when Mike said he didn't want children, he’d never wanted children--oh, she'd told her mother, and thinking about that now--it had hurt her, but how mortally that must have wounded Mom, who had had his child, who had tried to involve him as much as she could, who had loved him for so long… to be told by their child that he’d said he never wanted children. That he hadn’t wanted their child. How badly had she hurt her, by sharing that? And how the hell could she have been a good enough person to look past that, to set it aside and all the other hurt her father had caused over the years, to make it work?

And that was only one of the many times he'd hurt her that she knew about. There must be more. And thinking about this now, from her perspective… she understands now, why she made the decisions she made. Because indifference from Ben hurt both of them, but it was a different hurt than the pain that would have come from Mike back then, when he was lost and struggling and--

‘Caroline!’ her mother says, astonished. ‘What’s wrong?’

She tries and fails to stop crying. ‘I'm so sorry,’ she whispers. ‘I'm so sorry, Mommy.’

Her mother crosses the room to her in a few steps and holds her tight. ‘What is it, darling? You have nothing to be sorry for.’

She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe. ‘When--Mike said--at the park--’

She knows her mother realizes what she’s getting at because she holds her tighter.

‘It hurt you so much,’ she weeps. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Her mother is holding her tight, whispering soothing nonsense in her ear, letting her cry as she rubs her back. When the tears finally slow, and she pulls back, she looks at her mother. Mom has tears in her eyes.

‘Sometimes I think about that day,’ she admits, her voice thick with suppressed tears. ‘And how much it hurt you. And how I caused it.’

‘Mommy, you didn’t--’ she protests, but her mother nods.

‘I did. There were so many choices I should have made, Caroline, that I didn’t, because I was scared, because I wasn’t brave enough. And you paid the price, and Mike, and all because I was too scared, because couldn’t take the leap.’

She shakes her head. ‘Mommy--’

But her mother is on a roll. ‘I should have gone to his apartment or to his precinct and told him I was pregnant. But we’d only talked about children once, years earlier, before we’d even been together for a year. And he said he wanted children. He brought it up. And--then we never talked about it again. And years went by and we weren’t married, weren’t even engaged, and he never brought it up again, and I didn’t want to bring it up because… I was scared, Caroline, I thought he’d changed his mind. And when I found out I was pregnant I was scared of telling him in person because I was afraid he’d say he didn’t want you. And--I misjudged him, but he’d told me that night that he no longer loved me, or wanted me, and I believed him. If he never called me back, if I never told him about you, then I could pretend that he wanted you just as much as I did, because at that point I believed that he wanted nothing more to do with me--

‘Mommy--’

‘--but I was wrong, and I’d run into him in the street and he came to my office the next day and told me that he wanted you, wanted me--’

A knock on the door interrupts them and her mother stops at last, taking a deep breath.

‘Room service,’ she whispers, and her mother nods.

‘I’ll get it,’ Mom says, and wipes her eyes.

She sinks onto the bed as her mother goes to the door.

 _Oh, God_ , she thinks. She hears her mother chatting with the waiter, hears the sound of a cart being rolled in. Her mother… what must she have thought, during that time, that terrible time. And yet never in her life, not even now, did her mother ever make her feel resented or unwanted or a burden. Yet she must have been a constant reminder to her of what she had had, and what she’d lost, and the hurt that she’d suffered…

She’d been put first. Always. She’d been loved and cherished and told, over and over, that she was the best thing in her mother’s life. And she knew that she was. She still knows that. Because it’s the truth.

When her mother brings the cart into the bedroom, the tears are gone and she is calm again. She looks at her.

‘You know that I keep a journal, don’t you?’ her mother begins.

She nods.

‘I have one that I wrote when I was pregnant. I’ll give it to you to read, if you’d like. I don’t know… I don’t know that I can accurately represent now what I felt then, but that journal… it’s a record of my life as it was, my thoughts and fears and hopes.’

‘I would like that,’ she says, clearing her throat. ‘I would like to read it.’

Her mother smiles--a small, trembling one, but a smile. ‘Then I’ll get it out for you, give it to you this weekend.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispers, and suddenly she’s in her mother’s arms, hugging her tight.

‘You’re the only thing that matters to me, darling,’ she whispers. ‘You are the best thing in my life.’

‘I know,’ she whispers back. And she does.

When they break apart her mother smiles again. ‘Let’s eat before the food gets cold, my love. And pick a movie. Unless you want to talk more?’

‘I still want to hear about Luc,’ she says, and her mother laughs.

‘All right. Well, let’s eat and I’ll tell you all about him.’

She opens the champagne while her mother divides the food. They’ve decided to split the burger and the lobster roll, and she puts those on trays along with the oysters. She climbs into bed and her mother pours the champagne, handing her a flute.

‘To you, my darling girl. I love you,’ her mother says, smiling at her.

She touches her glass to hers. ‘Thanks, Mommy.’

They each take a sip. It’s very nice champagne, probably the nicest she’s ever had, and she smiles at her mother.

‘So, what do you want to know?’ Mommy asks, leaning back against the pillows.

‘The whole story,’ she replies promptly. ‘Who he was, how you met--’

Her mother smiles to herself. ‘I was in Paris for the year, studying at the Sorbonne--I was a junior,’ she says. ‘And it was the week before my twentieth birthday. I was in the Luxembourg Gardens, because it was a beautiful day, and a man sat down next to me.’

‘Luc?’ she asks, when her mother pauses. 

‘Luc,’ she confirms, and smiles. It’s a private smile, a secret smile, a smile that she’s never seen before. ‘And he looked at me, and laughed when he saw what I was reading. _Le suicide_ ,’ she explains at her questioning look. ‘By Durkheim. It was assigned for my victimology class. And he told me that no one so young and pretty should be reading about suicides on a day like that. He invited me for a glass of wine and introduced himself--Lucas Villequier, a lecturer at Sciences Po, and I accepted. We were walking to the bistro when I stumbled and twisted my ankle. It hurt quite badly, and we were far from Aunt Helen’s parents’ apartment, where I was staying, but close to his house. He brought me home and called a doctor, and she told me I needed to stay with him for a day or so, to make sure I didn’t walk on it. And…’

‘And what?’ she asks, when her mother breaks off and eats an oyster. She’s been snacking on her fries during the story, captivated.

‘And I did. And he cooked for me. He was--charming, intoxicating. And I slept with him, of course--he was the first person I’d slept with. He taught me so much about myself… and I’d fallen head over heels for him.’

She’s blushing, a bit, hearing her mother’s description, but she’s intrigued. ‘And then what?’

Her mother takes a sip of champagne, then says, ‘Helen’s parents decided to have their apartment redecorated, so I needed to find a new place to live. And I moved into his house. And I stayed. When I went home that next August, he and I took turns flying back and forth on the Concorde every weekend.’

‘Holy shit,’ she says, involuntarily, and her mother laughs.

‘Yes. Looking back now, it was incredible. He must’ve spent fifty thousand dollars on plane tickets, but he loved me, and I loved him. I graduated early and then moved back to Paris that December.’

‘You sound like you were very happy,’ she says, and her mother nods.

‘We were. I’d been accepted to Columbia for my Ph.D., and he was in the foreign service--he got an assignment at the French mission to the UN, just like your Lucas. But… a month before we were going to move, he came back from the Elysée, and--and he told me he’d been given an ambassadorship. To Morocco. And he’d just picked up a ring--his grandmother’s--that he’d had resized and cleaned for me…’ she sighs. ‘I wanted to marry him. I wanted to do my Ph.D., I thought I could figure out a way to do it from Morocco, but he knew I couldn’t, knew I’d be so unhappy if I didn’t pursue my career. So we didn’t get engaged. We didn’t break up, either, though, not then. I went to visit him after Christmas that year, for a few weeks, in Morocco. And… we’d both started new lives without each other, despite our best intentions. There wasn’t space for each other in our new lives, not when I was still in New York and he was in Morocco. And so--we broke up.’ 

‘Oh, Mommy, that’s so sad,’ she says, and she nods.

‘It was. We still wrote to each other, and I thought that maybe when I finished my degree we could get back together. He--he sent me flowers when I finished. A lily for every week we were apart. And--I called him, wrote to him, and he never answered. So it was over, then, and… and then a few years later I met Mike, and what I’d felt for Luc--it wasn’t a hundredth of what I felt, feel, for Mike.’

‘That’s good. That you found your person.’

Her mother nods, taking a bite of her burger. ‘You really love your Lucas, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ she says softly.

Mom smiles at her. ‘Sometimes, when I see you two together, it reminds me of myself and Mike, when we were young.’

She smiles. ‘I hope we’re as happy as you are now.’

‘I hope so, too.’ 

After a long pause, she says, ‘can we watch a movie now?’

Mom laughs. ‘Anything you’d like.’

She grins and picks up the remote, flipping through the movie options. ‘The Parent Trap!’ she exclaims, after a few minutes. ‘Can we watch that?’

‘I love that movie,’ her mom says, smiling. ‘Let’s watch it.’

 

It’s a familiar movie, but she sees it through new eyes this time. She jokes with her mother, ‘I don’t have a secret twin, do I?’, and her mother laughs and shakes her head.

At the end of the movie, she looks over and sees that her mother is crying.

‘Is this how you felt when you got back together with Mike?’ she asks softly.

Mom nods. ‘Yes. It was--overwhelming.’ She looks at her. ‘I’m grateful that we made it work, darling. That we could be a family.’ She hugs her, holding her tight, and she hugs her mother back.

‘How could you forgive him?’ she asks her softly, looking into her mother’s eyes. ‘For what he’d done. For what he said.’

‘I love him. I’ve loved him for so long, darling, and--it took all the courage I could summon up, to forgive him, to forgive myself, to move forward. A leap of faith.’

‘I love you, Mommy,’ she whispers, and her mother smiles softly, stroking her hair back from her face as she yawns.

‘I love you too, darling. Now, you’re sleepy--why don’t you get ready for bed, and I’ll clean up, hmm?’

She nods and yawns again. It’s only nine o’clock but she’s exhausted. She washes quickly and then changes into her nightgown before climbing into bed. Her mother joins her a few minutes later, wearing her nightshirt, and gets into bed next to her.

‘I love you,’ Mom says. ‘Good night, darling.’

‘I love you. Good night, Mommy,’ she says, and turns off the light.


	11. Chapter 11

She wakes up in the morning to the sound of the alarm. She’s slept well--she stretches and looks around. There’s a cup of coffee on the nightstand and she takes a sip. She has a couple hours before her classes, so she takes another sip of coffee and then heads to the bathroom to take a shower. When she gets out, she twists up her wet hair into a chignon and gets dressed in her mother’s pilfered linen shirt and a pair of jeans.

Mom is in the living room, on her computer again, a cup of coffee in front of her. She looks up and smiles.

‘Do you want to order breakfast or go downstairs?’ she asks.

‘Room service, please,’ she replies, and flops down on the sofa.

‘What would you like?’ her mother asks.

She thinks. ‘An omelette and wheat toast, please.’

Her mother picks up the phone and orders, then turns back to her.

‘Will you and Lucas join us for dinner on Saturday?’ she asks.

‘I’ll have to check with him, but I think that would work.’ She smiles at the thought of him. How will she manage to concentrate on school with the thought of him, so close… 

‘...thought that maybe we could have lunch, darling, and then I’ll head back to the city.’

‘What?’ she asks, shaking her head to clear it.

Mom smiles. ‘I said, if you’d like, maybe we can have lunch, and then I’ll head back to the city.’

‘If you have things to do--’ she begins, feeling suddenly, obscurely guilty for taking so much of her mother’s time.

‘You know that you’re my priority, Caroline,’ her mother tells her, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Always.’

‘Thanks, Mom,’ she says, relieved, unsure why she’s craving so much reassurance but grateful for it, for it being provided without being asked.

‘Anything for you, my darling.’

A knock on the door signals that breakfast has arrived and her mother closes her laptop, standing up to answer the door. The waiter brings in their breakfast and leaves when her mother tips him, then they sit down at the table.

They eat quietly. Her breakfast is delicious. It’s a nice change from dining hall food. They finish at the same time.

‘I’ll clean up,’ her mother says. ‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe the Belgian place again. Should I meet you back here when I’m done with my class?’

‘Perfect,’ her mother says, and smiles. ‘I love you, darling. Have a good morning.’

She kisses her mother’s cheek, collects her bag, and heads out.

 

Despite having so many of her questions answered she still finds it difficult to concentrate during her quantitative reasoning class. Maybe it’s the class itself and not what she’s going through, she reasons with herself, especially because her French class captures her attention as it always does. After French she texts Annie and asks if she wants to hang out in the afternoon.

 _Yes!_ Annie texts back immediately. _I want to hear all about your weekend!_

She heads over to the Belgian place after her French class--Mom is already waiting for her there. This time, again, they don’t talk about much. Her classes. Mom’s patients. Dinner plans for the weekend. And then, all at once, lunch is over, it’s time for class, and she has to say goodbye.

‘Love you, darling,’ her mother says. ‘You are my whole world.’

She steps into her mother’s embrace and remembers how loved she’s always felt, how loved she feels now, knowing how much Mom wanted her.

‘I love you, Mom,’ she tells her, and steps back. ‘I’ll call you about dinner.’

Her mother nods. ‘And I’ll bring you my journal.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, almost shy, and smiles. Her mother cups her cheek in her hand and looks at her, and in her eyes she sees all the love she’s ever needed and ever wanted there.

‘I love you,’ Mom says.

‘I love you too.’

After a long moment she bends to collect her bag and then there’s time for one more hug, a quick one, before she has to go. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t want to see her mother standing there alone.

 

The rest of the day is fine. She Skypes with Lucas, which is wonderful, and they make plans to meet her parents for dinner on Saturday night at seven. She and Annie hang out for a few hours and read each other’s Psych papers--Annie laughs at hers. Before she goes to bed, she checks her email, and there’s one from Mom.

_I just want to tell you that I love you, sweetheart. Have a good night. I can’t wait to see you and Lucas on Saturday._

She goes to sleep feeling more settled than she has since this discovery.

 

She wakes up dreading her Psychology class. She can’t believe she wrote about the professor’s obvious bias… well, it’s a good paper, so hopefully he doesn’t mark her down.

But Dr. Skoda isn't in class--their teaching assistant says he's testifying in a case for the District Attorney in Manhattan and that he won't be back for the rest of the week. She turns in her paper when the TA collects them and zones out when they watch a film, imagining Lucas. 

 

The week is much the same--quite dull, really, when she can't wait to be back with Lucas. She does have dinner with Eliza on Thursday night, which is the highlight of the week. They order pizza and drink martinis and Eliza tells her all about her relationship with Kip while she shares hers with Lucas. They end up in a fit of giggles, laughing over some funny thing about Kip, when one of her roommates bangs on the door and prompts their dinner to come to a close. 

 

On Friday morning she wakes up filled with excitement. She's packed a small bag--she can collect things from the apartment if she needs more than what she's packed--and will just be able to make the train if she leaves straight from quantitative reasoning. She's finished all her homework for the upcoming week and she just can't wait. 

This class has never gone by so slowly. By the time it's dismissed she's almost driven herself crazy. As soon as the class is over she practically runs for the door. 

The train is five minutes late in departing, so she has plenty of time to find a seat. She takes a seat by the window and closes her eyes as the train finally leaves. 

She should make it to the city two hours before Lucas’s plane lands. She texted her mother last night and made arrangements to stop by her office to collect the journal. She is eager to read it. 

She won't go home. Mike will be there, and thinking about everything he put her mother through… everything he put her through… she doesn't want to see him yet, and certainly not alone.

She's had a lot of time to think in the past week and she is angry. Not at her mother--but at him. If he hadn't said awful things to her mother… if he had called her back… her life would have been so different. And when they'd tried to renew their relationship when she was seven… lwhen he'd told her he didn't want children, never wanted to be a father… he was speaking to his _daughter_. He was speaking to his child. Not some imaginary future being but his actual, flesh-and-blood _child_ … how dare he do that to her, to Mom?

If he was like that to her when he knew that she was his child… what if Mom had gone to his apartment or his precinct and told him in person that she was pregnant? She can’t imagine a happy ending for that scenario. He’d probably tell her to fuck off, or that he didn’t believe he was the father, or that he didn’t want either of them. He couldn’t even pick up the phone. He couldn’t even call her mother back. If he couldn’t do that, how could he have been there for Mom, for her? And how much must Mom have suffered, believing that her child wasn’t wanted except by her?

So no, she can't be angry at her mother. Not when he must have said similar things to her, things that made her believe he wouldn't want them. Well, he'd said that he told Mom he didn't love her any more, the night she was conceived. That he made her believe it. That even when he found out that she was on the way, he wasn't convincing enough that he wanted to be a part of her life. She knows her mother. She knows that it wouldn’t have taken much for him to convince her to get a divorce and get back together with him. And just because he came to the hospital… and just because he brought her Topsy… that doesn't matter. Because what he'd done… it was nothing. He'd done nothing.

And then later, when she'd had her appendix removed and he came to visit her in the hospital… he'd brought his girlfriend. How dare he, she thinks, hurt all over again. How dare he bring his girlfriend to visit his daughter in the hospital. And even when he came back with dinner that night… he just left. He left them again. He broke her heart and certainly her mother’s and… God, did she really love him so much that she'd fall back into his arms each and every time? How could she?

Yes, they've been happy. And yes, he's been a good stepfather. But now… her mother may have forgiven him, but how can she? When he knew about her all along, and still said those things, and still wasn't there for her… 

He said that Mom used to take her to see him every month. She remembers that, a bit, but really remembers finding the few photographs her mother had of those times. Six photographs, she remembers, and one of the two of them at the Boat Pond before he told his child he never wanted her. 

So for four years he saw her every month. Say, fifty times during those years. And during all those times, presumably, he and Mom spoke. If he cared about them then how could he not take that time, those chances, to tell Mom that he wanted to be in their lives? Especially when Dad left when she was a few months old… he must have known that Mom loved him still. She made that abundantly clear, making sure he could see her, sending him letters every week about her… He must have known but not cared, or not cared enough. 

She closes her eyes and tries to remember those photographs. One of her walking towards him at the Temple of Dendur, maybe a year old. One of her as a very small baby held in his arms. One of the three of them sitting at Bethesda Terrace. One when they are making faces at each other when she was three or four. One of her in his arms at one of her parents’--her mother and Ben’s--Christmas party. And then the Boat Pond picture. 

So her mother had had six pictures to sustain her hopes that one day they'd be a family. She'd had one picture of her family together. How could Mom forgive him for taking that away from her, from them?

Well, her mother was loyal. Her mother loved once, and well, and not again. Her mother had hoped… her mother had hoped she would have her family together one day. She can't blame Mom for that. How could she?

But she can blame him. And she does blame him. How could she not?

If Lucas did something like that--if he cheated on her, if they broke up, if they'd come together again years later… could she forgive him? She doesn't know, and she doesn't know if that's because of some fundamental difference between her and her mother, or if her mother loved Mike more than she loves Lucas.

Well, she does love Lucas, more than the world, more than anything. And maybe she would forgive him if that happened. But she doesn't know. 

It doesn't matter. They are happy together and that's what she must remember. As for her mother… as for Mom, she found her way back to the man she loved. She had her family at last. 

She just doesn't know if she can pretend that she's happy, that she isn't angry at Mike, now, let alone for dinner tomorrow. How is she supposed to pretend everything is okay when she is so angry with him? She'll tell her mother how she feels. Mom will know what to do.

Not wanting to think anymore, she plugs in her headphones and opens Spotify, turning to Laura Marling and letting her voice drown out the insistent thoughts that still clamor for her attention. 

 

The train arrives ten minutes early, despite the delays at the beginning of the trip, and she fights her way through the crowds at Grand Central to the subway. She takes the 6 up to 68th and then gets out, heading over to her mother’s office at 64th and Park. She moved office locations a few years ago and she likes this new space--lighter and airier than her former office, with plenty of room for the three junior psychologists in her practice. Her mother is quite successful in her chosen career. She's an expert. She's respected. She has the ability, now, to pick and choose her patients. And yet she doesn’t pick the patients she can charge $250 a session, but the ones who need her help, regardless of their ability to pay.

She pushes open the door to her mother’s office. The office is on the street level, but they have a long stretch of the first floor of the building with all the session rooms facing the building’s courtyard. Paired with surprisingly high ceilings, the offices are very pleasant.

‘Caroline!’ Jessica, her mother’s longtime receptionist exclaims. ‘Oh, honey, you look wonderful. How’s Yale?’

She smiles and allows Jessica to pull her into a tight hug. ‘Yale’s great. How’s everything here?’

‘Same old, same old,’ Jessica says, releasing her. She smiles at the short, bubbly blonde woman. She’s a few years older than her mother and she’s always treated both Mom and herself as favorite nieces. She’s glad that Jessica is here to take care of her mother, especially now that she's in college. ‘Liz is just finishing up with a patient. Do you want to wait here?’

‘Sure,’ she says, walking over to the comfortable sofa. Jessica joins her.

‘So, tell me all about school,’ she prompts.

She smiles. ‘Well, I’m taking a psychology course and I actually love it. Don’t tell Mom,’ she says quickly, and Jessica grins.

‘Don’t want her to think you’re following in her footsteps? Your secret is safe with me.’

She laughs and before she can say anything else her mother’s door opens.

‘Thank you so much, Dr. Olivet,’ the woman says, her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her mother smiles at the two of them.

‘We’ll see you next week.’

As her patients leave her mother looks and spots her, smiling. ‘Hi, darling, you’re early!’

She feels herself returning her smile. ‘Yes, well, the train got in ten minutes early and the 6 was actually running without delays.’

Mom chuckles. ‘Well, in that case, do you want to go out for lunch? I don’t have patients till two.’

‘That would be great,’ she says, and Mom smiles again.

‘Great. Let me grab my bag.’

She waits for her mother in the waiting room, Jessica taking care of scheduling her mother’s patients’ next appointment, and then Mom reappears.

‘Ready?’

She nods and Mom wraps her arm around her shoulders, leading her out of the office.

 

They decide to eat at the East Pole, a couple blocks away, and get a table immediately. Her mother is a regular, having lunch here a few times a week, so they get to jump the line. After they each order a glass of wine, her mother pulls out a stack of journals--four total, all bound in navy blue leather.

‘These are the journals I think you’d be most interested in reading,’ she says. ‘They each have a date, if you want to read them in order. The first one is the one I wrote when I was pregnant. The next is from the first few months of your life. The third one is when Ben and I separated and the last one is when Mike and I broke up the first time in 1995.’ She pauses. ‘If you want to read any others, darling, just ask me.’

‘Thanks, Mom,’ she says, accepting the journals, running her hand over the smooth leather. ‘I’ll be very careful with them.’

‘I know you will be,’ her mother says. ‘No one else has ever read these, Caroline. Just me.’

‘Not even Mike?’ she asks, surprised.

‘No one,’ her mother repeats. ‘When you read them, darling… I’d appreciate it if you kept them private.’

‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I won’t share them with anyone.’

‘Thank you,’ her mother says softly, and they are interrupted by the waiter. Her mother orders and so does she, and she tucks the journals in her bag.

‘Mom, I wanted to talk to you about dinner tomorrow,’ she begins, toying with her glass of wine. ‘I… I’ve been thinking a lot. And… and I’m angry with Mike.’

‘With Mike?’ her mother asks, surprised.

She nods, looking down at the table. ‘Yes. The thing is, Mom… Mike told me this weekend that you used to bring me to see him every month until I was four. Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ her mother says, her voice questioning. ‘Yes, I did.’

She sighs. ‘And during all that time… did he ever tell you he wanted to be in my life?’

‘Yes. Yes, he did, he just didn’t--’ she breaks off.

‘He didn’t convince you, isn’t that it?’ she presses, looking up at her mother. ‘He didn’t convince you that he really meant it.’

‘Yes,’ Mom admits.

‘And yet you were together for nearly four years and when you came back together one night he managed to convince you that he’d stopped loving you. He is a convincing person when he wants to be--I know that. So he just didn’t care enough to make the effort to tell you that he wanted to be my father… because he probably didn’t.’

‘Darling, I don’t think--’ her mother begins, stumbling. ‘I don’t think that’s the case. There were a lot of things going on--’

‘If he wanted to be there, he would have been,’ she says. ‘At least that’s what I think. And even if I’m wrong… Mom, he told me he didn’t want children. That he never wanted children. He said that to his _child_!’

Her mother is looking down at the table now, her normally serene expression marred by a furrowed brow. ‘I know what he said,’ she says softly. ‘It was a mistake.’

‘Was it?’ she asks, and Mom looks up at her, her grey eyes brimming with tears.

‘Yes,’ she says simply. ‘I believe it was.’

The tension between them snaps when the waiter reappears, placing their lunch in front of them. Her mother looks around, busying herself with her napkin and silverware.

‘I don’t want to see him for dinner tomorrow,’ she says at last. ‘Not now. Not yet.’

Her mother nods, picking up her fork to poke at her salad. ‘All right.’

‘I still want to see you,’ she tells her, and Mom meets her eyes.

‘I’ll admit that I’m surprised you’re not angry with me. I’m the one to blame, after all,’ her mother says conversationally, as though they aren’t discussing the most important thing in her life.

‘You made choices that I don’t agree with,’ she begins carefully, unfolding her napkin on her lap. ‘But, Mom--you loved me always. I’ve never doubted for an instant that you wouldn’t do anything to make my life better. I’ve always known you put me first. You haven’t been selfish.’

Her mother looks at her for a long moment. ‘I’m flattered,’ she says at last. ‘But I think you’re thinking too kindly of me.’

‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘How is your food?’ the waiter asks, reappearing yet again.

‘Delicious, thank you,’ her mother says, picking up her fork again.

‘I love you, Mom,’ she says when the waiter leaves at last.

‘I love you too, darling,’ her mother says, smiling briefly. ‘I love you so much.’

 

When lunch is finally finished--and conversation is stilted, both of them lost in their own thoughts--her mother pays and they leave.

‘I’ll make a reservation for tomorrow night, then,’ Mom says. ‘How about 21?’

‘Perfect,’ she says, relieved that her mother is on board with their revised plan. Mike hates 21.

‘All right, darling. I’ll text you the details. I love you.’

‘I love you too, Mom,’ she says, hugging her mother tightly. Her mother kisses her cheek.

‘See you tomorrow, darling. Give Lucas my love.’

‘I will,’ she confirms, and then turns to head over to Lucas’s hotel, two blocks away, to wait.

 

When she arrives, she checks in at the desk, saying that she’s waiting for Lucas de Montigny. The attendant nods and says that he’ll come get her when Lucas arrives. He suggests she waits in the bar and she agrees, heading there. She finds a table with a comfortable leather seat and pulls out the first journal. Before she can open it, a waiter appears to take her order. She orders a pot of Earl Grey and some tea sandwiches--somehow she’s hungry again--and then opens the journal when he disappears.

Her first thought, before she even begins to read, is that her mother’s handwriting still looks the same. It’s very neat for a doctor’s, the cursive script leaning backwards just like her grandmother’s writing… and hers, she realizes too.

Her tea arrives; she busies herself in pour a cup, selecting a slice of lemon, and then choosing a tea sandwich. Then she begins to read.

November 1, 1998

I’m pregnant.

I’ve waited so long to write those words, wanted to write them for so many years… 

I am pregnant. I am eight weeks pregnant. My child is due in June.

Eight weeks ago, Ben was on a book tour and Mike… 

Barbara confirmed it. Eight weeks, not six weeks, which means that Ben can’t be the father.

This morning I woke up and was sick again, as I have been almost every day for weeks, and Ben and I were meant to meet Miranda for lunch. And I said I’d stay home and he should go, and he offered to get me a hot water bottle for my cramps, because this is the week I have my period… and my heart stopped. I pretended I was fine and as soon as he left I went to the drugstore. But then… I couldn’t figure out which test to buy, so I called Barbara, and went down to her house, and then we did a pregnancy test--positive!!!--and an ultrasound, which revealed I was eight weeks pregnant.

I tried to call Mike after I left Barbara’s, after walking to Washington Square Park, after thinking long and hard. His partner picked up the phone. He did not want to talk to me.

I need him to talk to me.

And then I went home and Ben was there, and worried, and it came tumbling out.

‘I’m pregnant,’ I said, and he recoiled as though I’d slapped him. He asked me if I was going to have an abortion. We got into an argument… of course I don’t want an abortion. I want a child… I want this child, the child I’m carrying. And after we argued I got sick again--I need to get in control of that--and then… I went into our bedroom and locked the door and started to write.

I don’t know what to do. Tell Ben? He’d want a divorce then, I’m sure of it, but… I do love him, even if I’m not in love with him, even if I’ve always loved Mike more.

But Mike… he made it crystal clear that he didn’t care for me at all any longer. Maybe he never did.

No, that’s not true. He loved me… didn’t he? I don’t know any more. I thought he did… but maybe I was wrong. Because that night… 

He told me he didn’t want to waste his time with me. That he didn’t want to spend the effort picking up someone in a bar. That he just wanted to--

Despite everything, I am thrilled that I am going to be a mother. To his child. To our child.

It’s what I’ve always wanted, even if he won’t be here with me. 

Even if he doesn’t want me.

Even if he doesn’t love me.

Well, I love this baby already. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I can’t believe I’ll finally be a mother.

She comes to the end of the first entry and closes her eyes. Oh, God, her poor mother. How alone she was from the beginning--the sadness radiates off the page.

She takes a sip of tea, eats a tea sandwich, then resumes her reading. Quite frankly, it’s painful to read. Her mother has never been so… emotional in person ever, or rarely, and reading how much she’s struggling with accepting the fact that Ben didn’t want a child, and that Mike still hadn’t called her back… it hurts. Her heart aches for her mother, who went through all of these things, even though every single entry includes Mom’s excitement for her arrival, plans she begins to make, the details of every doctor’s appointment.

She reaches the week of Thanksgiving in 1998.

As I mentioned previously, Ben has decided he will not join us at Southerly for Thanksgiving. It will be a small one this year--my parents, Peter and Miranda, Teddy, Chrissy, and the children, and Bill, Margot, and the boys. And then me and the baby.

I can’t wait to tell my family. I haven’t told anyone--Ben said it would be best to wait until I was at least two months along--and in any case I haven’t seen anyone for ages--just Miranda, a week after… when Ben was still away. Otherwise… well, Chrissy and I have talked on the phone, but… God, it’s been so lonely. I feel so isolated. Ben has made it clear he doesn’t want to see my family, that he wants to “take advantage of it still being the two of us,” as though this child is an imposition. The baby is the furthest thing from an imposition. The baby is everything.

I was sick on the drive home--thankfully once we turned onto the Island, so Peter pulled over and I threw up in the bushes--and I could tell Peter and Miranda suspected something. But I didn’t tell them yet, not until we reached the house and my parents came to greet us, and then I told them I was pregnant.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen them speechless, or so happy. Mummy started to cry and she was beaming, she pulled me into a tight hug and then Daddy did, and Miranda and Peter, and everyone was so excited… 

How relieving it is to be with people who are so excited, as excited as I am, for my baby. I knew they would be but after Ben’s indifference I just assumed that I would be the happiest about this new chapter in my life. How completely relieving it is to be wrong.

I told Teddy and Chrissy tonight and they were equally thrilled. I’m so glad. I am so glad. It makes it easier, knowing that I’m not alone in my joy.

I still haven’t heard from Mike. I suppose I should accept now that he’ll never call me back, or pick up, but… how can I? I want him--the man that I love, the one that I knew--to be here. To be here and happy and excited about the baby, to be thrilled and overwhelmed and, more than anything, present… I want that so much.

How can I accept that it looks increasingly unlike that will ever happen?

 _Oh, God_ , she thinks to herself. _Her poor mother. Her poor, poor mother._

‘Caroline!’

She looks up and spots Lucas across the room, coming to her, smiling. God, he looks handsome, even after his long flight. She stands and meets him halfway and then his arms are around her and hers around his, and everything is perfect for a moment. 

‘Oh, darling, I'm so glad you're here,’ he says, his breath stirring her hair. ‘Thank you for coming down for the weekend.’

She tilts her head to look at him. ‘Of course. I wouldn't miss it. How was your flight?’

He shrugs. ‘It was fine. Nothing remarkable. However, I am in desperate need of a drink, and a shower, and you.’

She blushes and smiles. ‘Well, you have me.’

‘Good,’ he says, and grins. ‘Will you meet me in the lobby? I'll check in.’

‘Yes, perfect,’ she says, and with one final hug he goes back to the lobby and she goes to collect her things and pay.

Five minutes later she joins him, having marked her place in her mother’s diary. She is eager to read more even as her heart breaks. But this is the closest she's ever felt to her mother, and they've always been close. 

‘Ready, my dear?’ he asks, reaching for her hand. She nods and takes his hand, squeezing it tightly, and he smiles at her. They follow the bellhop to the elevator and the bellhop presses the button for the fifteenth floor. They ride up in silence and she takes comfort in Lucas’s stalwart presence next to her. As she looks at their reflection in the mirror, she smiles. They look good together. He’s handsome, a few inches taller than she, and he has dark brown hair and blue eyes. She remembers the first time they met, when they were children, and how kind he’d been. He is a very kind person and she’s so grateful to have met him.

The bellhop leads them down the hall and opens the door, holding it for them. She’s surprised--it’s a very large suite, with a kitchenette, a bedroom, a living room, and both a sunroom and patio. She turns to him and raises an eyebrow; he shrugs.

‘Maman arranged it, and you know how she is,’ he tells her, by way of explanation, and she smiles. Yes, she does know how Maud is, and God forbid her precious oldest child have to “rough it” in a mere hotel room while he looks for an apartment.

Lucas tips the bellhop and strides to the door to lock it after him.

‘Well, darling,’ he says, grinning. ‘Why don’t you order us a snack and some champagne, and I’ll take a shower, and then you can tell me everything you wanted to tell me.’

‘Perfect,’ she says, and they come together for a brief, passionate kiss.

‘God, I’m lucky,’ he tells her when they step back. ‘So lucky, my darling.’

‘Me too,’ she tells him, and hugs herself as he heads to the bathroom to shower.

 

Later, when they have opened the bottle of champagne and are both reclining outdoors on the patio, he says, ‘So, Caroline, what did you want to share that you felt you couldn’t over Skype?’

She takes a sip of champagne and looks out at the street. ‘We had to do a genetics thing for class, for my Anthropology class. Dominant and recessive traits, that sort of thing. Anyway. Mike is my father.’

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes her waist. She twists to look up at him.

‘You don’t look surprised,’ she comments.

‘You look like him,’ he tells her simply. ‘The way you stand. Your expressions.’

‘I suppose I just couldn’t see it,’ she says, and takes a sip of her champagne. ‘Well, Mom and Mike came up last weekend and I talked to them about it.’

‘And what did they say?’ he prompts when she falls silent.

‘That the night they came together… well, Dad--Ben--he was out of town for a month on a book tour, and the case that Mike had been working on collapsed with the suspect was shot, and that he went to my mom for help. But the next morning… she was making coffee for him, and when she came back he was angry at her and started yelling at her, telling her that he didn’t care for her any more…’ she swallows back tears that rise despite herself. ‘And that Mom tried to tell him that she was pregnant when she found out, but he wouldn’t pick up the phone or call her back. And then one day they ran into each other the street and he found out she was pregnant and he told her he wanted to be in my life, but she didn’t believe him.’

‘That’s difficult,’ he says softly. ‘Very difficult for everyone involved.’

She nods. ‘The thing is--I’m angry with him. Not with Mom… I’ll get to that, but… with Mike. When he and Mom tried to get back together after Mom and Ben separated--I was seven--we went to the Boat Pond one day. And it was a great day. We felt like a family. He picked us up from the apartment and kissed Mom and gave me a piggyback ride to the Park. And we were having fun. We had a picnic lunch. Mom went to get ice cream and I asked him if he wanted children. And he said--’ God, she’s getting choked up again, how, why, after all these years? ‘--he said no. That he never wanted children. That he couldn’t picture himself as a father.’

‘Oh, Caroline,’ Lucas says, and she sets down her drink and turns to him, burrowing her face into his chest. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.’

‘And I didn’t even know he was my dad until just last week! But I told Mom that night that it was good they’d never married, because I didn’t think he would have wanted me.’ She shakes her head. ‘Telling Mom… it hurt her so much, and it was all my fault.’

‘Not your fault,’ he tells her. ‘His, certainly, but never yours.’

‘I know, but… Mom was heartbroken. How must she have felt, hearing that the man she loved, the father of her child, told their child that he never wanted her? Ben had told her that, too, once. I’ve told you about that. Poor Mom.’

She feels him nod. ‘Yes, I feel awful for your mother.’

‘So I told Mom I was angry with him and I didn’t want him to come to dinner tomorrow, okay?’

‘Anything you’d like,’ he says. ‘But if it will just be your mother, perhaps we should invite my uncle to keep her company? He is here from Washington this weekend. I’m sure he’d love to come.’

‘All right. I’ll call 21 and make the reservation, and tell Mom.’

‘Later,’ he says, pulling her back into his arms. ‘Later.’


	12. Chapter 12

She’s dreading going home. Mike will be there and how can she tell him that their daughter isn’t upset with her, but she’s angry at him? How can she say that she doesn’t want to see him this weekend? This is what he feared all these years ago, this was what he said every time she suggested they tell her.

She runs a hand over her eyes. She feels lucky, so lucky, that Caroline isn’t angry with her. Her darling daughter… in all her life they’ve barely argued, never fought seriously, and she’s been lucky to have such a close relationship with Caroline. Close enough that she gave her the journals to read that she wrote at critical times in their lives… she trusts her daughter, even though it was difficult to part with them. She hopes that she’ll understand and continue to accept her decisions.

She sighs, finishes her notes, and returns the file to her file cabinet. She doesn't want to tell him what Caroline said, but she must. And now it's past time to go home.

She locks up the office--the three other doctors in her practice have already left and so has Jessica--and begins the twelve-block walk home. She still loves the location of her new office--it's much more convenient for her than the former location near Beekman Place. She also likes being on the first floor with the courtyard. They have a lovely little sitting area there; she often takes a quick break there in between patients. And there is ample room for her practice, which has grown considerably over the past seven years. She's glad of it--she really feels she's helping people.

Those thoughts take her two blocks; she still has ten to walk until she gets home and she can't put off thinking about Caroline now. 

She understands that she's still hurt by what Mike said all those years ago. Even now… even now, when she remembers it, it takes every atom of strength she has not to curl up in a ball and weep. And Caroline telling her what he said… their child telling her that her father didn't want children, never did… she's dealt with a lot of painful, horrible things in her life and that was one of the worst. 

He told her--he told them--that he didn't know why he said it. But sometimes she's afraid that he did mean it. That he didn't want their child. That he resents having her in their life. Ben certainly did. He made that abundantly clear.

She knows that it's not true, of course, but Caroline is justified in her anger. Because the problem is, after she turned four, they had set their usual meeting and he never showed up. And he never called to explain it. And he never apologized. And when she called him the next month, he didn't pick up the phone or call her back. And when she went to see him a month after that… well, he was there, she knew he was there, and he didn’t answer the door. He just let her cry.

She didn't tell Caroline that. 

If she hadn't been in court that day when Caroline was six, if Ben hadn't needed to take Caroline to work with him, she doubts they ever would have come back together. Because after he didn't call her back… she tried twice more after that, and nothing, and so she'd stopped trying. 

But then he was brought back into their lives more than two years later and Caroline didn't remember him by that point. But she loved him. She always loved him. He was her father. 

She should just have told Ben all those years ago, even though Mike hadn't called her back. She should have raised Caroline on her own. It would have been better that way and her daughter would have had a happier childhood. She'll never forgive herself for putting Caroline through so much. 

That's why she is so surprised that Caroline isn't angry with her. It's a surprise and a blessing. She's relieved and grateful and even so, her heart aches for her daughter and the pain she herself has caused. 

She's a block from home now. How is she going to tell her husband what their daughter said? She thinks he's been suspecting something of the sort, though, after she stayed an extra day in New Haven with Caroline. She's glad of that extra day, of being able to share with her daughter. They've always been so close but now she feels even closer to her. She believes that Caroline feels the same. 

‘Hello, Dr. Olivet,’ the new doorman, Paul, says. 

‘Hello, Paul,’ she replies. She collects her mail from the desk and then heads to the elevator, dreading every step that brings her closer to their home.

When she opens the front door she can hear laughter coming from the living room. She looks down at her watch--damn it, she forgot that they were having Frankie over for dinner tonight--and locks the door behind her. As she takes off her shoes Mike appears, relaxed and easy, a beer in his hand.

‘Hey, babe,’ he says, and God, sometimes she hates how she automatically responds to him, how her knees go weak and her stomach clenches with desire, because right now this isn’t appropriate, she _can’t_ … ‘How was work? How’s Caroline?’

His smile fades when she doesn’t answer immediately. ‘Fine,’ she says belatedly. ‘Sorry I’m late, I got wrapped up in patient files. Can you make me a martini? I’m just going to change.’

‘Sure,’ he tells her, and she summons up a smile, squeezing his arm as she walks past him.

She changes quickly and joins Mike and Frankie in the living room.

‘Hi, Frankie,’ she says, crossing the room to hug her. ‘Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.’

‘No problem,’ Frankie says easily. ‘How are you, Liz?’

‘Good!’ she says, a little too enthusiastic. She sees Mike frown as he hands her her martini. She takes a welcome sip. ‘How are you, Frankie?’

She forces herself to pay attention as Frankie replies, telling her about a case that she’s been working on, asking her opinion about something. She responds on autopilot, explaining a potential diagnosis, telling her that she should call her if she needs an evaluation. In the middle of their conversation, Mike orders sushi, and when the food is delivered the conversation blessedly changes to other things--Frankie’s son, who is married now, and then Caroline--and then when dinner is over, and after coffee, Frankie excuses herself.

‘I’m on the early shift tomorrow,’ she apologizes. ‘Thanks for dinner, you two. It’s always good to see you.’

‘It’s always good to see you,’ she repeats, hugging Frankie tightly. She’s glad that she’s become a friend over the years. She’s the one person from Mike’s Staten Island days he’s kept in touch with.

Frankie and Mike hug, and Mike walks her to the door, promising to have her over again soon. When Frankie goes, she hears him lock the door and come back down the hallway to join her in the living room.

‘So, what’s goin’ on, Lizzie?’ he asks, leaning against the door.

She takes a deep breath before looking up at him. ‘Caroline told me that she’s angry at you.’

‘At me?’ he asks, startled. ‘Why?’

She sighs. ‘Because of what you said to her at the Boat Pond, that day. And because she believes that if you really wanted to be in her life, you would have fought harder.’

He runs a hand over his eyes. ‘God.’

‘I told her that you did try to persuade me to divorce Ben--’

He cuts her off. ‘It wasn’t enough. I know that, Lizzie. I should've fought harder.’

‘I should have listened to you,’ she tells him, her voice thickening with suppressed tears. ‘But Mike--did you mean it?’

She’s never asked him that before--for many reasons, but primarily because when they finally, finally found their way back to each other, they both agreed not to dwell in the past. And because she didn’t want to hurt him by doubting him. And because she did doubt him still… she was terrified that he’d pause too long in responding to the question, or that there would be something in his eyes that would give away the truth in those hurtful words…

‘Are you serious?’ he asks her, sadness giving way to anger.

‘I need you to answer,’ she tells him, knowing she can’t turn back now. 

He turns away from her. ‘All these years together, Lizzie, and you still doubt me.’

Why isn’t he denying it? she thinks, suddenly terrified. ‘Mike--’

‘If you have to hear me say it,’ he says, voice tight with anger, ‘No, of course I didn’t mean it. She’s our child, Liz.’

‘Then why did you say it?’ she asks, begging him to answer. ‘Why did you say that to our daughter?’

‘I’ve asked myself that for a decade and I don’t know,’ he admits, anger dissolving into sadness again. ‘I regret it more than you know. Especially now.’

‘She doesn’t want to see you for dinner tomorrow,’ she tells him, and he turns to face her.

‘No, Lizzie, really?’ he asks, totally devastated.

She nods slowly. ‘She’s very upset, Mike. I want her to understand--I gave her some of my journals to read.’

‘Really?’ he asks, startled again. ‘But--’

‘She is entitled to read them,’ she explains. ‘Some of them. And I hope they’ll be able to give her the answers she desperately needs.’

He shakes his head. ‘I never thought you’d let anyone read them.’

‘Caroline isn’t anyone,’ she retorts. ‘She’s our daughter. She wants to know why I made the choices I did. She’ll know my reasons when she reads the journals.’

He sighs. ‘Christ, Lizzie, I fucked up.’

She doesn’t deny it.

‘Is she ever gonna forgive me?’ he asks, crossing the room to sit down next to her.

‘Eventually,’ she tells him, leaving out the unspoken, “I hope.”

He hears it anyway. ‘Yeah,’ he says, and she closes her eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

He wakes up completely, totally furious. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this angry in all his life, and his has been a life filled with anger. He looks over at his wife, sleeping restlessly, and contemplates waking her up because he’s angry with her, at her, because of her, and picking a fight, yelling at her, would make him feel better. He could do that, or he could just leave, go for a drive, skip this stupid breakfast with his in-laws, who liked to go to the diner around the corner and pretend like they were real people, not the daughter of a family who used to own like half of Connecticut and the son of a family that partially owned Standard Oil. They’re not real people, he thinks, getting out of the bed that their money paid for, opening his dresser drawer, which was once Isobel’s grandmother’s, pulling out jeans and a shirt. He dresses in the bathroom, brushes his teeth quickly, and then grabs his wallet from the top of the dresser. He doesn’t look back at Liz, who is still asleep, and he lets himself out of the apartment.

Out on the street, he doesn’t know where to go. He could get his car, a four-year-old BMW that Liz bought him, but that’s another part of the problem. Barely anything he owns is his own--he’s been totally subsumed into this all-encompassing family identity.

He’s from the Lower East Side. He shouldn’t be wearing a custom suit and driving a BMW. Christ, even his jeans nowadays are from Ralph Lauren. He’s wearing a Brooks Brothers shirt. Who the hell is he?

He heads for the subway. He doesn’t know where he’s gonna go, but he’s gotta get out of here.

 

He ends up heading downtown and taking the train out to Long Island. He hops on the first one, to Oyster Bay, and goes through the motions of switching in Jamaica on the very slow local train. He has never spent any real time out here--on occasion he and Liz and Caroline would sail across from Southerly to Seawanhaka, a yacht club famous for its strong Southsides and lack of wind in the harbor. But besides that, and taking Caroline out to Teddy Roosevelt’s house once, when she was eleven and writing a paper on “My Favorite President,” he’s kept his North Shore explorations to a minimum. Nick is from here, he remembers, when the conductor announces Locust Valley, and then curses his decision not to wait for another train going anywhere else. He’d seen the painting of the giant estate he grew up on, Inis Fada, right on the water in Lattingtown with a couple hundred acres. His sister had it now, Helen’s mom, though it was down to twenty-five acres and the big house and carriage house. He hadn't been there, choosing to stay at home or work any time Liz and Caroline had gone out to see her aunt and uncle. He wasn't a fan--Helen had made a pass at him after her second divorce just after he and Liz got married, and she lived in the carriage house--and he chose to avoid them as much as he could. 

But Oyster Bay is different than that, he realizes, getting off the train. Thank Christ. It’s not Hamptons-y, either, it’s a real small town. He hasn’t seen one of these in ages. And, he discovers, there’s a decent diner, where he parks himself at a table and orders a lot of coffee and a big breakfast. His phone rings for the tenth time and he turns it off without looking at the dozen texts from Liz. 

He sighs and takes a sip of the coffee. It's decent, thank God, but right now he'd drink the precinct swill if it gave him caffeine. He's still so angry. 

He doesn't really dream, but last night he did, about that week he spent with Liz and Caroline when she was two. Caroline had called him Daddy. They'd gone to the park and he'd sung her to sleep and he and Liz had been together, a week of stolen time. He had wanted that to be their life so badly, but at the end of the week Caroline was sick and he'd heard from Anita that her request for his transfer back to the 2-7 was denied again, and he just didn't, couldn't argue when she told him to go. He did. 

He'd wanted to be Caroline's dad so badly. And hearing Liz ask him if he'd meant what he said all those years ago, that he never wanted to be a father… it hurt that she didn't trust him, that their daughter still believed what he said more than a decade later. He should never have said it. It wasn't true and it fucked up so much. They could've been together that much sooner… and Caroline and Liz wouldn't doubt him now. 

It's the doubt that hurts, and the knowledge that they're right to do so because he couldn't make it clear to them that he loved them. If he'd had a chance from the beginning… if only he'd called her back, or picked up the phone, or if she'd come to the precinct or his apartment… he knows he could have convinced her to get a divorce so that they could've raised Caroline together.

But if he's honest with himself, he knows it wouldn't have worked. He couldn't have trusted himself with Caroline alone, and he and Liz couldn't have made it work between them then, and so… what would have happened? She would have known he was her father but he wouldn't have been part of her life in any substantive way. He would've been worse than Stone. They never would've gotten back together. 

The waitress--an attractive woman in her thirties, comes over with the coffee pot and smiles at him. ‘Another refill?’

‘Please,’ he tells her, grinning back. ‘So, what's there to do in a town like this?’

‘You from the city?’ she asks, and he nods. ‘Well, there's a brewery in town that's pretty good. And Teddy Roosevelt’s house, and there's the beach.’

She is really attractive, he thinks again, Black Irish like him, with strong, pleasing features and bright blue eyes. She’s on the shorter side and has ample curves. Basically, she's as unlike Liz as she could be. 

‘And what would you recommend?’ he asks, leaning closer to her. She's not wearing a ring, he notes. 

Her smile widens. ‘Well, I usually head over to the brewery after my shift ends at twelve.’

‘Maybe I'll see you there,’ he says. ‘I'm Mike.’

‘Maybe you will,’ she tells him. ‘I'm Kelly.’

 

An hour later, after a decent breakfast and a bit more flirting, Kelly joins him at the brewery. 

‘Hey,’ she says, sliding onto the barstool next to his. 

‘Hey,’ he returns, glad to see her. He's been thinking too much. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A summer ale, please,’ she says, and he dutifully tells the bartender her order. ‘So, what do you do, Mike?’

‘I was a cop for thirty years,’ he says. ‘NYPD.’

‘My dad was a cop,’ she comments, accepting the beer from the bartender. ‘Nassau County.’

‘Did you grow up here?’ he asks, slipping back into the give-and-take of any good flirtation. 

‘Yep,’ she says, raising her beer to her lips. ‘Parents died a couple years ago, so I'm in the house I grew up in. I was in California for a decade and came back after the divorce.’

‘Nice you had a place to come back to,’ he says, thinking that he doesn't have a place at all. Liz’s idea of a compromise when he floated the idea of them finding their own place was to buy a boat. Yeah, no. 

‘Yeah, it was good. I have a seven-year-old. She loves being right by the beach.’ She takes another sip of her beer. ‘You got any kids?’

‘Yeah, a daughter,’ he says. ‘She's eighteen, at Yale.’

‘Yale, huh,’ Kelly comments. ‘Pretty expensive on a cop pension.’

‘Her mom comes from money,’ he says, trying to keep things light and away from Liz. 

‘Ah,’ Kelly says. ‘This beer is good, have you tried it?’

‘No,’ he says, and she pushes her glass to him. 

‘Have a sip.’

He picks up the glass and drinks from it, looking at her. She's smiling at him. ‘Good,’ he says, and he's not talking about the beer. 

‘I think so,’ she concurs, and brushes his wrist as she takes the beer back. He looks down and notices he forgot to put his wedding ring on this morning. ‘So, what's your best story from your time on the Force?’

 

They spend a good part of the afternoon talking, then leave the brewery and get hot dogs and ices from a tiny roadside stand that claims to have been there for more than a hundred years. They walk along the beach and have their belated lunch. 

He hasn't talked to Liz in years, it seems, not about anything other than their daughter and work. He tried to tell her how much he wants their own place, one that's just theirs, but she didn't seem to get it. He feels trapped, sometimes, in that big apartment, surrounded by her life and the lives of her family members. Yeah, he has his own office in the apartment, the only place that's really his--even the bedroom is something Liz redecorated for them, but really for her. He doesn't remember feeling like this the first time they were together. And he hasn't felt like this always, either--but he has for a while now. He just wants them to have their own place. Their own life. She's lived in that apartment all her life. Isn't she ready for a change?

He looks down at Kelly. She's in the middle of some story about this beach and he hasn't been paying attention. He thinks she can tell, because she brings the story to a close, and she smiles at him. 

He smiles back.


	14. Chapter 14

She walks over to the mirror and leans forward, scrutinizing her reflection. She never wears much makeup, but wants to dress nicely for dinner tonight, a celebration of Lucas's new job. She's put on some lipstick and mascara, and she's wearing her diamond earrings and a diamond pendant from her grandparents for her eighteenth birthday. Her hair is pulled back into an elegant chignon and she's wearing her favorite navy silk dress, a dress that was once her mother’s. She stopped by the apartment to pick things up this morning; she checked to make sure her parents were out at breakfast with her grandparents first. 

‘You look beautiful, my darling,’ Lucas says, smiling at her. She smiles back. She's so thrilled to be here with him. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ she tells him. ‘Is your uncle meeting us here or at the restaurant?’

‘At the restaurant.’

‘Mom is too. Let’s go, then.’

The doorman gets them a cab and Lucas gets in first--a lady never slides, she can hear Miranda telling her--and she gets in after him.

‘This is the uncle I’ve met before, correct?’ she asks after Lucas has given their destination to the driver.

‘Yes, my uncle Luc--Maman’s brother. He’s the Ambassador to the US now, he’s here for the week for work.’

‘That’s interesting,’ she says. ‘I had no idea. He just seemed so glamorous always, sweeping in from foreign countries, bringing you all gifts…’

He laughs. ‘I’ll tell you, my darling, that the Foreign Service isn’t that glamorous until you’re really high up. I hope you bear with me.’

‘Always,’ she says, and he grins.

‘Good.’

They arrive at the restaurant; Lucas pays and tips the cabbie, then helps her out of the car. They check their coats inside the restaurant and look around. 

‘We're early--why don't we check in and then go to the bar?’ she suggests. Lucas nods and they do so, finding seats with a view of the door. Lucas orders them each a glass of champagne, which arrives promptly. They clink glasses, each taking a sip.

‘You didn’t wait for me to join you?’ comes a voice behind them, and they both turn to look at Lucas’s uncle. 

Lucas smiles. ‘We weren’t sure you’d be here so soon. You remember Caroline?’

‘Ah, yes, the lovely Caroline,’ Luc says, turning to her. She extends her hand and he bows over it, very correctly, and she smiles at him. ‘You’ve grown up since I saw you last; you look lovely, my dear.’

‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ she says politely, and he waves a hand in dismissal.

‘Please, Caroline, let’s not be formal. Luc is fine.’

‘All right.’

He smiles at her and orders a bottle of champagne from the waiter. When he has a glass in front of him, he says, ‘to your happiness, dear ones. I hope you have long and happy lives together.’

‘Thank you, Uncle,’ Lucas says, looking at her to smile.

‘Caroline, Lucas tells me you are at Yale,’ Luc says. ‘What are you studying?’

‘I haven’t chosen a focus of study yet,’ she says. ‘But right now I’m taking a French conversation class, Psychology, a maths class, and a class in Physical Anthropology.’

‘And how do you like them?’

‘Reluctantly, I like the psychology class the best,’ she says, and Lucas laughs.

‘Why reluctantly?’ Luc asks.

‘Well, my mother is a psychologist, and I really only took the class to prove to myself that I wasn’t interested in psychology as a profession. But I am interested.’

They all laugh and then she spots her mother entering the restaurant. She looks beautiful, in a little black dress she’s had for years, with her big pearl pendant earrings and a pearl necklace.

‘There’s Mom,’ she says, and Luc and Lucas turn to look at her. For some reason, Luc takes a deep breath and turns away quickly as Mom comes towards them.

‘Hi, darling,’ Mom says, kissing her cheek quickly before turning to look at Lucas and Luc. All the color leaves her mother’s face and she leans forward, concerned.

‘Hello, Lili,’ Luc says, his voice gentle. ‘You look beautiful.’

Her mother is gaping at him, but she shakes her head and gets a grip. ‘You’re Lucas’s uncle?’

Luc nods. ‘I am.’

‘And you knew that Caroline was my daughter?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he says. ‘I’ve known Caroline for years. She looks just like you.’

‘Why don’t you sit down, Liz,’ Lucas suggests, sliding out of his seat. ‘And have a glass of champagne.’

‘And I suppose you knew about this too,’ her mother says to Lucas, a bit sharp. She frowns, but then realizes that Luc must be her mother’s Luc, and she barely keeps her mouth from dropping open.

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ Lucas says, his voice gentle. ‘Just that you’ve obviously had a shock.’

‘Lili and I knew each other a long time ago,’ Luc announces, and it’s Lucas’s turn to frown.

‘Lili? This is Lili?’ Lucas asks, incredulous. ‘And you never thought to mention that?’

Her mother accepts the glass of champagne offered by the waiter and downs it in a single go, holding it out for a refill.

‘Why did you never tell me you knew my mother?’ she asks Luc.

‘I don’t know,’ Luc admits.

She looks at Mom, who is staring at Luc. What must she be thinking? She looks totally stunned, like she’s just been punched in the stomach, and she remembers what Mom said--that he never called her back after she reached out to him--and she’s suddenly angry at Luc.

‘Why didn’t you write back to Mom?’ she asks suddenly, and Mom turns to look at her, shaking her head quickly.

‘What do you mean?’ Luc asks, confused, looking between her and her mother. ‘When?’

Mom clears her throat. ‘I wrote you, after I finished my PhD, after you sent me all those beautiful lilies. And I called. And… nothing.’

Luc is speechless.

‘Let's get our table, hmm?’ Mom says abruptly, standing up. The bottle of champagne has been placed neck down in the ice bucket, empty now, and she abandons her glass on the bar when her mother makes her way back to the maitre d’. She follows her, trying to catch up, and she hears Lucas scold his uncle in a low voice.

Mom doesn’t wait for them--she barely catches up with her--and she follows her mother when they’re led to their table. She can see how tense her mother is, how upset she is to be confronted by someone she once loved, who has known about her all these years but made no effort to reach out to her.

Lucas finally joins them. ‘My uncle sends his apologies, but he will not be joining us for dinner,’ he tells them, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. She reaches beneath the table and squeezes his knee. ‘Liz, please accept my apologies. I had no idea that… that his presence would cause you discomfort.’

‘It’s fine, Lucas,’ her mother says, her voice equally tight. ‘Now, should we order a bottle of wine?’

 

The dinner is miserable. Mom is clearly preoccupied and she looks exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes she didn't notice earlier. Lucas is angry and she feels like she's caught in the middle, feeling sick and guilty for asking Luc why he didn't write her mother back. She picks at her food, her mother does too, and Lucas doesn't even order a real meal. 

When her mother pays the check, she goes to collect their coats. She hears Lucas saying, ‘Liz, again, I am so sorry.’

She hurried away and collects their coats. Mom and Lucas meet her by the door. 

‘Sorry, darling,’ Mom says, summoning up a smile. ‘When are you coming down next?’

‘Next weekend,’ she says. ‘Mom, I'm so sorry.’

‘No need for you to apologize,’ Mom replies. ‘I'm going to walk home, all right? I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.’

Before she can protest her mother leans forward and pecks her cheek, then Lucas’s, and turns to walk up Fifth. 

They watch her go. ‘God, I feel awful,’ Lucas says. 

‘It’s not your fault,’ she reassures him.

He lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. ‘I’ve heard him talk about this mythical Lili all my life. He truly loved her… despite his three failed marriages after their relationship ended. You remember the rooms that we never use? The rose bedroom and sitting room?’

‘Yes,’ she says, recalling them clearly. She and Isabelle used to sneak into them, pretending they were princesses. They were beautiful rooms. 

‘They were hers. Lili’s. Your mother’s. She lived with him for a long time, I think.’

‘Mom told me about him,’ she says. ‘Last weekend. That she loved him very much, but when he was sent to Morocco they couldn’t make it work.’

Lucas nods, still watching the corner although her mother has disappeared from view. ‘I know.’ He sighs, then turns to her. ‘That won’t be us, darling.’

‘No,’ she says, confident in that, at least. ‘It won’t.’


	15. Chapter 15

She wakes up when her alarm goes off at seven thirty, alone. At first she thinks he’s in the shower, but the door to the bathroom is open. She walks down the hall to his study, but the door is closed and the light is off. The kitchen is similarly empty. Then she realizes that his keys and wallet are gone and her heart sinks.

She goes back to their bedroom and checks for a note, a text, a message, anything. Nothing. His wedding ring is on his nightstand. She calls him and he doesn’t pick up. She texts him and he doesn’t respond. She walks Sadie around the block, throwing on a tshirt and yoga pants, then comes back. She forces herself to take a shower and get dressed--they were supposed to meet her parents for breakfast at nine, and she’s running out of time--and tries him once more.

Still no answer.

Her heart sinking, she dresses in a pair of light linen pants and a simple sleeveless blouse, then heads downstairs. The doorman has no knowledge of Mike’s departure, meaning he must have left out of the side door and didn’t take his car. She thanks him and leaves for the diner.

Her parents already have a table and she pauses in the doorway for a moment to look at them. They’ve aged extremely well--even though they’re in their mid-eighties, they are still active and vibrant. She can’t bear to think of a time when they won’t be here any longer, though she hopes that it’s a long time off yet. Their hair has gone silvery now, but their eyes are still bright and their backs still straight. She’s lucky.

She steps forward and greets her parents with kisses, then settles in the booth across from them.

‘Sorry, Mike had to go out this morning,’ she offers as an explanation. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, darling,’ her mother answers easily. ‘How is Caroline?’

She smiles as she does at any mention of her daughter. ‘She’s delighted that Lucas is here.’

‘I can imagine,’ Mummy replies. ‘We’re thrilled for her. He’s a good match.’

‘I agree,’ she says, unfolding her napkin.

‘They seem to be as happy as you and Mike are,’ her mother continues, and to her embarrassment she feels tears well up in her eyes. She opens her menu, hoping to distract herself and her parents.

To her relief, her father picks up the conversation. ‘The _Selkie_ needs a new set of sails. I was thinking of trying a new manufacturer--I bought the current set last year and they’re already worn out.’

 _Thank you, Daddy_ , she thinks silently, and offers her opinion on the options, still perusing the menu while she gets her emotions back under control. 

 

Somehow this breakfast is harder than telling her parents that Caroline is Mike’s daughter. She keeps wanting to burst into tears, frustratingly, and she excuses herself several times to try to call or text Mike. There’s still no answer, and on her last call it goes straight to voicemail.

She has no idea where he is, what he’s doing, why he left. What happened between last night and this morning to prompt him to leave without a word?

Her father pays the check and she begs off going to Peter and Miranda’s, claiming a headache. And she does have a headache, a grinding, aching one that’s causing the room to go dark around the edges. She kisses them both goodbye and manages to walk the two blocks back to her apartment without bursting into tears.

There’s still no message from Mike.

She goes into their bedroom and changes out of her clothes, setting an alarm and falling into a deep sleep.

 

She sleeps for a long time, waking up when her alarm goes off at five in the afternoon. She checks her phone immediately and there's only a text from Caroline, saying that Lucas’s uncle will join them for dinner. She drags herself out of bed, feeling weary deep down to the depths of her soul, and walks into the bathroom. 

She can't believe this is happening again. He's done this before but not since they were married. Where is he? And, more importantly, is he alone?

She hurt him by doubting him, by sharing her doubts, she knows. But her doubts are justified and now… 

No. She will trust him. She has to trust him. He won't cheat on her again, he won't hurt her again. He just needs some time. This is difficult for him. 

She gets out of the shower and dries off, then dresses and takes Sadie for another quick walk. She promises her a long walk when she gets home, and Sadie seems to understand, letting them round the block quickly. 

When they get home, she feeds her, then blow dries her hair to prevent frizziness from the late summer humidity. She puts on the elegant Chanel dress she bought in Paris years ago. She chooses her earrings and necklace, spritzes perfume, and finally puts on her stockings and shoes--low Ferragamo slingbacks. There. She's ready.

She texts Mike before she goes. 

_I love you._

Nothing. 

She goes downstairs and gets a cab. 

 

Caroline and Lucas are at the bar, she's told when she arrives. She makes her way there. Her daughter looks stunning, in a navy dress she pilfered from her closet, diamond necklace and earrings sparkling in the low light. 

‘Hi, darling,’ she says, kissing her cheek. She turns to greet Lucas and his uncle and when she sees him, her mouth drops open. 

Hello, Lili,’ Luc says, his voice gentle. It still sounds the same, he still looks the same, just older. It's been so long... ‘You look beautiful.’

She realizes she's still gaping at him, so she forces herself to collect herself. ‘You’re Lucas’s uncle?’

Luc nods. ‘I am.’

‘And you knew that Caroline was my daughter?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he says. ‘I’ve known Caroline for years. She looks just like you.’

She feels faint. She must look it, too, because Lucas takes her elbow.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Liz,’ Lucas suggests, standing up. ‘And have a glass of champagne.’

‘And I suppose you knew about this too,’ she snaps, turning to face him, frustrated with this situation and with him, too. Now that the initial shock has worn off she is angry. This is not something she wanted or could deal with today. Not this. Not when Mike has been gone all day, and he hasn't called… 

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ Lucas says, very gently. ‘Just that you’ve obviously had a shock.’

She nods in apology and takes his seat. 

‘Lili and I knew each other a long time ago,’ Luc announces, and she flushes with embarrassment at the nickname he gave her so many years ago. She had loved him, she thinks. She had loved him so much.

‘Lili? This is Lili?’ Lucas asks, incredulous. ‘And you never thought to mention that?’

She accepts the glass of champagne offered by the waiter and drains it, holding it out for a refill.

‘Why did you never tell me you knew my mother?’ her daughter asks Luc.

‘I don’t know,’ Luc admits.

She looks at him. She can't stop looking at him. How long has it been? More than thirty years, almost thirty-five. My God. And she'd loved him so much… she spent so long missing him.

‘Why didn’t you write back to Mom?’ Caroline asks suddenly, and she turns to look at her, shaking her head to discourage her from this. 

‘What do you mean?’ Luc asks, confused, looking between the two of them. ‘When?’

After a few long moments, she clears her throat. ‘I wrote you, after I finished my PhD, after you sent me all those beautiful lilies. And I called. And… nothing.’

He is speechless. She can't be here any more. She doesn't want to see him. 

‘Let's get our table, hmm?’ she says abruptly, standing up. She heads back to the maitre d’ to get their table, not waiting for anyone to follow. Caroline finally catches up to her when she reaches the table and Lucas joins them a few minutes later.

‘My uncle sends his apologies, but he will not be joining us for dinner,’ he tells them, his voice tight. ‘Liz, please accept my apologies. I had no idea that… that his presence would cause you discomfort.’

‘It’s fine, Lucas,’ she tells him. ‘Now, should we order a bottle of wine?’

 

She doesn’t know how she gets through the dinner. Caroline is upset, Lucas is angry for his uncle putting him in an uncomfortable position, and she--well, Luc was just the icing on top of this awful, awful day. She picks at her salad, as does Caroline, and Lucas only orders dessert. They drink a single bottle of wine, shared between the three of them, and finally, finally she pays the bill and Caroline goes to get her coat and Lucas’s.

‘Liz, again, I am so sorry,’ Lucas says as they rise from the table.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I feel awful for snapping at you. I was just disconcerted. I haven’t heard from him or seen him in probably thirty years…’

‘I know,’ Lucas tells her. ‘We live in the house now, and he keeps your rooms there the same. I’m sorry, Liz.’

She shakes her head, trying to dismiss his words. She can’t think about that now. ‘It’s fine, Lucas. Please, let’s not talk about it any more.’

He nods and they walk to the door to wait for Caroline. She appears, frowning, still clearly upset by asking Luc about the letter she’d written.

‘Sorry, darling,’ she tells her daughter, forcing herself to smile. ‘When are you coming down next?’

‘Next weekend,’ she says quickly, adding, ‘Mom, I'm so sorry.’

‘No need for you to apologize,’ she says, squeezing her daughter’s hand. ‘I'm going to walk home, all right? I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.’

She kisses her daughter’s cheek, then Lucas’s, and before they can protest she walks away, heading up Fifth to her apartment. When she’s out of sight she digs her phone out of her purse and turns the volume back on. Nothing still.

God, why is he doing this? It’s not as though she was the one who wanted to keep him away from dinner, and both of them, at various times, put off telling Caroline. And she had wanted him there when she was growing up. She had needed him to be there.

And he wasn’t.

If anyone should be angry here, it should be her. He’d left her, hurt her countless times, let her bring up their daughter on her own. No, that’s not fair to him, she acknowledges, but right now, as she trudges up Fifth, she doesn’t feel like being fair. What the hell is he doing?

Just as she turns onto her street, her phone beeps. Finally, she thinks, and digs the phone out of her bag again. But it’s not Mike, it’s her cousin Helen. She opens the message.

 _I didn’t think you kept your husband on such a long leash_ , she writes, and the three dots indicate she’s writing another message. It pops up after an achingly long moment--a photograph of Mike at-- _is that Buckram Stables?_ she thinks, startled, noting the distinctive decor, _it must be_ \--in a booth, his arm wrapped around another woman’s shoulders, his head bent so that he can whisper in her ear. She’s laughing and he’s grinning.

_Oh, God._

She runs a hand over her eyes and her phone beeps again.

 _I’ve got to say, Liz_ , Helen writes, _I didn’t expect to see Mike at Buckram’s tonight. Especially without you._

She closes the message and just… stands there, on the sidewalk, her heart breaking.

 

She moves eventually--she has to, she has to walk Sadie and make sure her daughter got back to the hotel and she has to finish reading through some newly published papers. She has responsibilities. So does he, but it seems he will choose to ignore them.

She uses the service entrance to her building and waits for the elevator. It takes forever to arrive and she finally steps inside, pressing the button for her floor. When she unlocks the door to her apartment Sadie is there, grinning at her. 

‘I'll just be a minute,’ she tells her daughter’s spaniel, then closes the door behind her. She takes off her shoes and walks barefoot to her bedroom. She removes her stockings, then struggles to reach the zip on her dress. She manages it eventually and then drops the dress in the bag for dry cleaning. It's hot out tonight, so she pulls out an ancient pair of shorts from Murray’s and a sleeveless white Indian Harbor polo. The shorts have a fraying hem and have faded from Nantucket red to a pastel pink--she must have bought them twenty years ago--and the shirt has seen better days too, but it will work. She gathers the dog walking paraphernalia, slips her keys and cell phone in her pocket, and heads back to collect Sadie.

Sadie sits patiently while she digs out a beat-up pair of Sperrys from the back of the closet, then while she snaps the leash on her collar. Sadie is a very good and patient dog, unlike Marjorie, Caroline’s beloved cocker spaniel. That dog would never stay still to have the leash put on--she hated walking on a leash, but would always walk right at their heels without it. 

She lets them out of the apartment. It's just past nine; her walk home took longer than she thought. Despite sleeping for most of the day, she's tired. Exhausted. It's more than physical. But she wants to walk. 

She and Sadie head over to the Park and walk around the Zoo. She used to take Caroline here practically every weekend--she loved the penguins--and in the hot, dark night she and Sadie hear the snow leopards roar. She shivers and redirects their path up towards the Met. 

They end up cutting across the park to the Ramble and she lets Sadie take the lead, guiding them through the winding paths. When they emerge they are at the Boat Pond and she closes her eyes against a barrage of painful memories. 

‘Lilibet?’ she hears someone call, and she looks up to see Nicky on the other end of the Pond, walking his own dog, a spaniel named Theo from the same breeder as Sadie. ‘I thought it was you,’ he says, walking over to her. 

‘Hi, Nicky,’ she says, and bursts into tears.

‘Oh, Lilibet,’ he says, embracing her. She turns her face into his chest and weeps against his shirt. ‘Oh, my dear. It's okay. Everything's okay. I'm here.’

She cries for a long time, sobbing against his chest, crying all the tears she’s wanted and needed to cry for years. She finally pulls back only when his shirt is soaking wet from her tears and she can't cry any more. 

‘Why don't we get you home and talk about it?’ he suggests. ‘Is Mike there?’

She shakes her head and that sets her off again. 

‘Okay, sweetheart,’ he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. ‘That's fine. We’ll go back to your apartment and I'll make you a martini and you'll tell me all about it.’

‘Okay,’ she manages, and they begin to walk, their dogs in front of them. Nicky keeps up a running commentary of light gossip and she's so, so grateful that she doesn’t need to talk yet, doesn’t need to explain anything, because Nicky is here.

 

When they reach the apartment they let the dogs off their leashes and she fills bowls of water for Theo and Sadie. Nicky has gone down the hall to the living room and she can hear him making martinis. She splashes cool water on her face--she’s sure she looks a wreck--and then joins Nicky in the living room.

‘So, what’s the story, Lilibet?’ he asks her, handing her an ice-cold martini.

‘It’s a long one,’ she warns, curling up in a slipper chair.

He takes the other one. ‘That’s fine. I’m here.’

She tells him.

 

‘He’s an idiot, Lilibet,’ Nicky tells her with assurance after she finishes her story. ‘Damn it, it took you two forever to get back together. And you have a child! He’s what, sixty? Way too old to go slumming in Oyster Bay. Or is it slumming if you’re of the same social class?’

‘For God’s sake, Nick, it’s not about that,’ she says sharply. ‘And how do you know she’s from Oyster Bay, anyway? Helen says she saw them at Buckram’s.’

‘I recognize her. She’s a waitress at that diner on Main Street, the only one that's open after Stratford Shoals.’

She looks down into her glass. ‘Oh,’ she says quietly. 

‘And of course it’s about class, Lilibet. Look at this,’ he says, gesturing with his glass. ‘You can’t tell me it doesn’t bug him.’

She takes a big sip of her martini. ‘It’s not a big deal to me, all this,’ she says slowly. ‘It’s just… we have the money to live comfortably, to have nice things. So why shouldn’t we?’

‘You won’t get an argument from me,’ Nicky tells her. ‘You know I like my creature comforts. But… maybe he feels like he can’t provide for you. You should let him.’

She snorts. ‘If you’re going to talk like a terrible fifties guide to being a good housewife, please make me another martini.’

Nicky eases himself out of his chair and accepts her glass. ‘The thing is, Lilibet,’ he begins, ‘he probably feels like he’s not good enough, and that’s why you didn’t let him be a part of Caroline’s life.’

‘What? I wanted him to be there! I needed him to be there! He never called me back or got in touch until he saw me and realized I was pregnant. And forever after… I tried to keep him in her life. In our life. And he messed it up every time.’

Nicky hands her a refreshed martini. ‘I know. I’m not trying to defend him. I’m just saying… maybe he sees things differently.’

She shakes her head, suddenly very, very tired and sad. ‘It took us so long to find our way back to each other. And I thought we were happy. And when Caroline found out… I thought it was a new beginning for all of us to be the family we always should have been. And now… oh, God, Nicky, what if he sleeps with her?’

‘He won’t,’ Nicky says, but it’s lacking conviction. ‘Of course he won’t, Lilibet. A little flirtation is one thing… and you know how your cousin always blows things out of proportion. It’s nothing, just the angle the photograph was taken.’

She doesn’t believe him but she wants to, desperately, completely. ‘I need to trust him. I just don’t know… I don’t know that I can.’

‘You can,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll be right here for you. It will be all right.’

‘I hope so,’ she says, yawning, a giant, consuming yawn. She can feel her eyelids start to droop. 

‘Want me to go?’ Nick asks her, and she looks at him. Her Nicky, one of her closest friends, her daughter’s godfather, someone she's known and loved like a brother all her life. She's lucky to have him. 

‘Can you stay?’ she asks, yawning again. ‘We can sleep on the sofas.’

He nods. ‘It's been a long time since we've done this.’ 

‘It has,’ she says, remembering nights after balls during the season, summer nights at Southerly and Gin Lane, booze-soaked nights at Dorrian’s. ‘Let me get you some pyjamas. I think there's a clean pair of Daddy’s in the guest room.’

‘Thanks,’ he says, standing up. ‘I'll wash the glasses.’

She nods and goes down the hall to the guest room. There is a clear pair of pyjamas, which she collects, and the guest room bathroom is stocked with spare toiletries as well. She leaves the pyjamas there for him and calls down the hallway to let him know where they are. 

She changes into a linen nightgown, a voluminous shift that's good for the hot weather, then collects spare bedding and pillows from the sofa. She makes up the two sofas as beds and locks the doors, turns off the lights, and settles the dogs for the night before getting them both a glass of water. By the time she returns to the living room, he’s sitting on his makeshift bed. 

‘I love you, Lilibet,’ he says, standing up and crossing the room to her. She sets the waters down and steps into his hug. 

‘I love you too, Nicky,’ she whispers, feeling tears well up. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anything for you,’ he says, and kisses her forehead. ‘I'll be right here if you need anything.’

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Good night.’

‘Good night.’

She falls asleep almost before she gets under the covers, listening to the sound of his breathing.


	16. Chapter 16

She texts Mom when they get back to the hotel and as soon as they get upstairs, Lucas tosses her the room service menu.

‘I’m starving, aren't you?’ he says, opening the other copy.

She chuckles. ‘Yes, I am. I'm glad you are too.’

‘Let’s order everything.’

 

They sleep in until ten--Lucas isn't jetlagged, but he is tired from the week of preparation prior to the move--and when they do wake up they have a leisurely breakfast. They have appointments to see three apartments near the UN at noon, and then she needs to get back to school.

She packs her things after breakfast and they shower, then go to look at apartments.

The first one, on Sutton Place, is a fifth floor walk-up and not even a floor-through.

‘I'd like something nicer,’ Lucas says. ‘An elevator, doorman building…’

‘At least a floor-through, if it’s in a townhouse,’ she adds.

The realtor nods carefully and rearranges their appointments.

The second one is better, in a nicer building with good security, but it's small. The third one, though, is another townhouse, but with an elevator. The top floor apartment--a floor-through with two large bedrooms--is bright, renovated, and airy.

‘I'll take it,’ Lucas says, and she grins at him.

‘All right,’ the realtor says, a bit startled. It's the most expensive, but still reasonable for the area. Lucas signs the initial paperwork, provides his bank information, and sets the move-in date for next week.

When they leave the building the realtor heads back to his office and Lucas smiles at her.

‘Thanks, darling,’ he says, grinning at her. ‘That was easier than I expected.’

‘Me too,’ she admits. ‘It's a great apartment.’

‘Yes, and so close to everything,’ he agrees. ‘Especially to work. And by the time you’re here next weekend I’ll be all moved in.’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’

He nods. ‘I’m sure. You’ll see, Caroline, everything will be ready.’

‘If you’re sure,’ she tells him, and smiles. ‘Well, I can’t wait to see it. But unfortunately I should get going back up to New Haven.’

‘I’ll take you to Grand Central,’ he says, and before she can protest he hails a cab.

 

They part outside the platform with a kiss and promises to talk tomorrow. She boards the train and finds a seat in the last car by a window. Putting her bag on the seat, she digs through it to find her headphones and phone; she puts on Laura Marling again. She’ll call Mom when they leave the station--she wants to make sure she’s all right after last night.

This has been a difficult time for her, but she knows it must be just as difficult, if not more so, for Mom. And she feels bad for telling Mom that she’s mad at Mike, but… she still is. The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets. He hurt her--both of them--so much. She’d thought, for years, what a wonderful stepfather he was. How he cared about her. How he loved her. And yes, she’d wondered about what he’d said in the past, the reasons he and her mother had split up the first time, and why, finally, they made it work. Looking back on this now, with this new knowledge, everything shifts.

If he knew she was his daughter all this time, and if, as he claimed, he wanted to be a part of her life, then how could he let anything stop that? How could he let anything come between that?

She hasn’t had a chance to read more of her mother’s journal this weekend--she stopped at Thanksgiving--and she will read more after talking to Mom. The train starts to move and after a few minutes emerges into the sunlight. She pauses her music and opens the contacts app, selecting her mother’s cell phone number.

The phone rings four times before it’s picked up.

‘Hi, Caroline, it’s your godfather,’ Nicky says.

She checks her phone to make sure she called her mother and not Nicky. She did. ‘Hi, Nicky. Is Mom there?’

‘She’s just feeling a bit under the weather right now,’ Nicky says, his voice careful. ‘Food poisoning, I think.’

She frowns. Mom ate like two bites of her salad last night, and she barely had any wine, so that’s not it either.

‘So she’s taking a nap right now and I’m just making sure she’s okay.’

‘Should I come back? I just passed 125th Street, I can get off the train at the next stop and help.’

‘No,’ Nick says quickly--too quickly. ‘No, sweetheart, that’s fine. She’ll be better tomorrow, I’m sure. I’m just going to make her some soup and stuff, make sure she takes it easy. You know she’s terrible at that.’

That’s true, she thinks, and it’s good that Nicky’s there, but, ‘Where’s Mike?’

‘He had to go out,’ Nicky says, his voice extra careful now. She knows he’s hiding something. ‘I didn’t want your mom to be alone, so I’m just going to stay here for a bit.’ Before she can question him further he says, ‘All right, the soup’s going to boil over, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later and tell Lilibet you called. Love you, sweetheart.’

He hangs up and she stares at the phone. Something’s going on. Something with Mike. What, though?

She makes up her mind and calls him. His phone goes straight to voicemail, and the voice mailbox is full. She texts him.

_Is everything okay?_

She’s really worried at this point, concerned that something she said prompted this lack of communication from her parents. No, she tells herself. She can’t think like that. They’re adults. It’ll be all right.

It has to be.

 

She gets back to New Haven and makes her way to her dorm. She feels a strange disconnect from her life as a college student after everything that’s happened. She texts Annie and they agree to meet for dinner in an hour. Her roommates aren’t there, thank goodness, so she takes a long shower and then gets dressed for dinner.

She still hasn’t heard back from Mike, though Mom texted her when she was in the shower.

_Sorry I missed your call, darling. Let’s talk tomorrow. Love you._

She texts back, _Love you too. I hope you’re feeling better. Where’s Mike?_

The three dots indicating that her mother is typing appear, then disappear, then appear again. _He had to go out of town for a bit. Nicky’s going to stay with me for a while. Love you._

 _Where did he go?_ she types back quickly, but her mother ignores the message.

Great. This is a nightmare.

She tries Mike again. Still no answer, still no response to her texts.

Someone knocks on the door. It’s Annie, she thinks, and as she crosses the room to the door she tells herself, _just focus on your schoolwork. You get one shot at this. It will be fine. Mike is working. Mom has Nicky. Everything is going to be all right._

‘Hey, Annie,’ she says, opening the door to her friend. ‘Ready for dinner?’

‘Yes!’ her friend exclaims. ‘I’m starving. Let’s go.’

She pulls the door shut behind her.


	17. Chapter 17

They end up going to dinner at some place in Locust Valley she knows, Buckram Stables, and he laughs at the stupid decor. It’s just the sort of faux-English place Liz’s family likes, he thinks uncharitably. But, honestly, he doesn’t give a damn if he’s being uncharitable right now.

She sits next to him in the booth and she tells him they have to order something called the Stabilizer. When the massive burgers arrive his stomach growls in anticipation. Lunch was a long time ago.

The pub is pretty rowdy. Not just preppy people, but working class people too, like Kelly, like him--well, is he working class any more? He shakes his head and takes a bite of his burger.

‘Good, right?’ Kelly asks, taking a sip of her beer.

‘Great,’ he tells her, grinning.

They finish their dinner pretty quickly and then order another round. It feels like he’s known her forever by this point; he wraps his arm around her shoulder and enjoys the way she leans into him.

‘So, what do you want to do after this?’ she asks, looking up at him.

He bends his head to whisper in her ear, ‘Do you need suggestions?’

She starts to giggle and he joins in, enjoying the sound of her laugh, enjoying be able to make her laugh. God, this has been a good day. This is the first time in a long time he’s felt like who he used to be, he realizes, the person he was before he met Liz. He ignores the part of his brain who reminds him that before he met her he was an asshole and a womanizer, only interested in himself and his immediate gratification.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he says abruptly, not wanting to dwell on his thoughts. ‘I’ll get the check.’

‘Thanks,’ she says.

He stands up, making his way to the bar to pay for their dinner and drinks. As he waits for his tab, someone says from behind him, ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’

He turns and sees Helen, grinning at him like the cat who’s got the cream, a wicked smile.

‘And with your… friend,’ she continues, eyes flashing.

‘Shit, Helen--’ he begins, not knowing what to say. ‘--it isn’t like that.’

‘You practically had your tongue in her ear,’ Helen says, wrinkling her nose. ‘Disgusting, Mike.’

‘Helen--’ he says again, desperate now, his actions crashing down on him. ‘You can’t tell Liz.’

Her smile returns, more smug than before. ‘Oh, can’t I?’

‘Please, Helen, I’m beggin’ you--’

She shrugs casually, then looks over his shoulder. ‘I think your friend is ready to go.’

Before he can stop her, she calls out to the man she was with and they go, her date dropping money on the bar to pay for their drinks.

Kelly joins him. ‘Ready to go?’

‘I’ve gotta head back to the city,’ he tells her, running his hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry.’

She frowns. ‘Why?’

‘I ran into someone I knew. I just--I’ve gotta get back, Kelly, sorry.’

He throws some money down on the bar and books it out of the pub, heading down for the train station. He can hear the train whistle and he’s gonna have to run to make it, which he does, just as the train’s doors close.

He finds a seat and turns his phone back on to buy a ticket from the MTA app. As he buys it, his phone goes crazy with notifications.

_Missed Calls: Lizzie (42)_

_Unread iMessages (37)_

Just as he flashes his ticket to the collector, a message from Helen pops up. He clicks on it quickly, hoping it’s an assurance that she won't tell Liz.

It's not. It's a photo, and he clicks on it to see that it's a screenshot of messages she sent Liz over an hour ago, before she confronted him.

_I didn't think you kept your husband on such a long leash._

Then there's a photo of him with his arm around Kelly, his head bent to hers, and they're laughing.

Helen’s last message reads _I’ve got to say, Liz, I didn’t expect to see Mike at Buckram’s tonight. Especially without you._

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

What the hell has he done?

 

He doesn't go home. There's no way she'd open the door to him now. She hasn't called or texted him since she saw Helen’s message. Oh Christ. He gets off the LIRR and heads to the Amtrak counter. There's a train to Baltimore in two hours. He buys a ticket, then picks up some toiletry stuff at the 24-hour K-Mart. He can buy clothes in Baltimore.

He grabs a sandwich, a charger for his phone, headphones, a bottle of water, and a book for the train. He heads to the waiting room. He still has an hour and a half before his train leaves.

He reads through his messages from Liz, or tries to. But one of the last ones-- _I love you, Mike, please come home_ \--almost brings him to tears. He can't listen to her voicemails. He can't bear to hear the sadness in her voice.

His train is called and he boards it, finding a seat. He's gotta text her back; what will he say?

He finally settles on _Out of town for a while_ , and types it in, sending the message to his wife.

His wife.

He wants to write that he's sorry, but he's sure she won't believe him.

And--God, he's sorry. He's so sorry. What was he doing? At least he didn't cheat on her… officially. Because technically he did, when he kissed Kelly, when they held hands and talked and…

Oh, Christ. What is wrong with him? Just because he woke up angry… he could've just taken a walk. He didn't need to go do all that with some random waitress in a town where he knew he'd be found out.

They finally had a chance to be the family they were always supposed to be and he fucked it up again.

Would he have slept with Kelly if Helen hadn't made her appearance? He knows the answer is yes, even if he doesn't want to admit that. So Helen being there was really a blessing in disguise. He hasn't done anything they can't come back from. Thank God.

But, God, how will he ever be able to face Liz again? To see the sadness in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders and know it's because of him, his mistakes. And when Caroline finds out… as she will, because he's sure Helen will tell her too… she'll never forgive him. He's lost his daughter for good now. He knows that for a fact, deep in his bones. Because his daughter is loyal. His daughter loves her mother. His daughter will never understand what went through his mind, because he doesn't know either, and because he will never be able to tell her even if he does figure it out.

He hopes he hasn't lost Liz, too. Because this time it's different, it's not like how it was with Sherri, they are married and this is almost as terrible a betrayal as he could ever imagine.

And she's got photographic evidence. And she's got Helen’s texts. And she's got her cousin to remind her of it every day for the rest of their lives.

He sighs and puts his new headphones in, opening his music app. Caroline had created a couple playlists for him--‘I can't believe you can't figure out how to make playlists on here!’ she told him--and opens one. He presses play. He closes his eyes.

 _At laaaast_ , Etta James sings. My love has come along.

His memory of his first dance with his wife hits him so hard it’s almost physical. The sight of her beaming up at him, the feeling of rightness, of completeness, now that they were finally married, the scent of her perfume, the feeling of her cheek against his.

 _My lonely days are over and life is like a song, oh yeah_. And then their honeymoon, taking the Selkie out for a week, the sun shining, the air crisp, Lizzie bringing up that down duvet from the cabin so that they could make love on the deck…

Being away from everyone, pretty much, for a week, just being out on the water and having nothing to do but love each other and make love, and the feeling of her beneath him, beside him, above him, near him…

_You smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast…_

They’d finally, finally found each other and now he’s fucked it up again. And for what? Because he was angry that she told him to go when Caroline was two. Because she didn’t physically confront him with the news of her pregnancy. Because she raised their daughter on her own, because she had no other choice. Because he didn’t show up for the meeting she arranged the month before Caroline’s fourth birthday. Because he stopped calling her back. Because he never took the chances she gave him.

_…and here we are in Heaven, for you are mine at last._

What the fuck is wrong with him? He had everything he ever wanted. A beautiful wife. A beautiful daughter. Work he enjoyed. A home. Love. Someone who loved him, cherished him, wanted him. Someone who needed him.

And he threw all that away. And for what? For nothing.

For absolutely nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

She wakes up to the scent of fresh coffee. She keeps her eyes closed for a moment in an attempt to block out memories from yesterday. It’s useless, so she opens her eyes, looking up at the ceiling of the living room.

She is in physical pain; her heart feels tender and bruised. She knows Mike hasn’t come home yet. Slowly, slowly, she eases herself up and out of her makeshift bed, reaching for her phone.

There’s a text from him, finally, and her heart leaps as she fumbles to unlock her phone. She clicks on the message app and opens the text from him.

 _Out of town for a while_ , it reads, and she scrolls up to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She hasn’t. He sent the text at two in the morning.

She tries to call him but it goes to voicemail again, which she’s filled up already. She texts him instead.

_Please come home, Mike. I love you._

She sets the phone down on the end table and looks up to see Nicky holding a cup of coffee.

‘Made you some coffee,’ he tells her, handing her the cup. She accepts it, patting the cushion next to her. He joins her. ‘Was that Mike?’

‘He texted me late last night.’ She hands him the phone and he reads Mike’s text. ‘His voicemail is full.’

‘I’m sorry, Lilibet,’ he tells her, setting down the phone and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him and takes a sip of coffee, closing her eyes.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she admits.

‘He’s going to come back,’ Nicky tells her.

‘I hope so,’ she says softly. ‘I hope so, Nicky.’

He kisses the top of her head. ‘I want you to have a lazy, indulgent day, all right? I’ll stay, and I’ll cook for you, and we can gossip and watch movies and just relax, hmm?’

‘Are you sure that will be all right with Archie?’ she asks, tilting her head to look at him.

He nods. ‘I’ll run home and get some clothes, but we’ve already talked this morning. He’s actually in Paris, appraising some long-lost Impressionists this week.’

‘Thank you, Nicky.’

‘Anything for you, Lilibet. You’ve dragged me out of my funks countless times. I’m glad I can be here for you. Now, give me your phone.’

‘What?’ she asks, confused.

‘I don’t want you to worry about texts or no texts, calls or no calls. So let me take your phone for a while, okay? I’ll take care of everything.’

She leans forward and picks up her phone, handing it to him. ‘Okay.’

He tucks the phone in his pocket. ‘All right, Lilibet. Do you want breakfast first or a bath?’

‘A bath,’ she decides after a moment.

‘All right. I’m going to run home, then, get some things, and then I’ll be back. Is that all right?’

‘Yes,’ she forces herself to say, though the thought of being alone is like a knife through the heart. ‘I appreciate it, you know.’

‘I do know,’ he says, and kisses her again. ‘Okay. Can I take the spare keys?’

‘Yes, they’re on the table in the hall,’ she says and he stands up.

‘I’ll be back soon. Take a nice, hot bath, all right?’

‘I will,’ she promises. She waits until the door closes behind him to stand up from the sofa and head to the bathroom for the promised bath, bringing her coffee with her.

 

She draws a bath, pours in lots of bubble bath, and undresses, dropping her nightgown in the hamper. His clothes are still there; she meant to do laundry yesterday but… 

She turns back to the bath and climbs into it, leaning back, closing her eyes. She takes a sip of her coffee. Nicky really does make the best coffee. She concentrates on the feeling of the bath, the water soothing the jagged edges of her emotions, the taste of the coffee. She focuses on the scent of the bath--roses--and takes another sip of coffee. If she continues like this, everything will be all right. Everything will be fine. Just one minute at a time. One minute at a time.

The bath grows colder and the bubbles start to disappear. Her coffee cup is empty. She sets it down on the floor and pulls the plug, draining the tub before stepping out. She reaches out for her towel and wraps it around her before walking into her bedroom to find something to wear.

Honestly, she wishes she could just curl up in bed in pyjamas and go to sleep, stay asleep, until her husband comes home and she wakes up and she realizes that this has all been a nightmare.

Well, why not? Why can’t she just crawl into bed? She has nothing to do today. She puts on another nightgown and climbs under the covers, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

 

‘Lilibet,’ she hears someone say, feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and sees Nicky standing over her.

‘What time is it?’ she asks, her voice cracking from disuse.

‘Two o’clock,’ he says. ‘Caroline called on her way back to New Haven. I told her you had food poisoning. Anyway, I made you some lunch, darling, so let’s get up and eat.’

She nods and Nicky moves away from the bed, picking up her robe from the bench at the foot of the bed and handing it to her. She shrugs into the long blue Turkish cotton robe and yawns, still exhausted, and follows him into the kitchen. 

He's been very indulgent, making enormous, sloppy croque madames with a light salad on the side. She's hungry, at last, and she eats all of hers, plus an extra slice of toast to mop up the egg yolk and béchamel. After lunch he settles her on the sofa, tucked up under a blanket, and cleans up, then they decide on To The Manor Born, which they both love. He joins her under the blanket and she snuggles close to him. 

‘What if we'd gotten married?’ Nicky muses. ‘I could've proposed after things ended with the Duke. I think we would have had a wonderful life together.’

‘You mean despite your preference for the Y chromosome?’ she asks, raising an eyebrow as she looks up at him. 

He nods, suddenly serious. ‘We love each other. We respect each other and make each other laugh. We could each have had people for… other things,’ he says, and she laughs. 

‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘Isn't it, though?’ he asks. ‘We could've had children together, a lot of them, as many as you wanted.’

She nods slowly, imagining it. To her surprise, it’s not a stretch. ‘You would have been a wonderful father.’

It's his turn to chuckle. ‘I don't know about that. But you're such an amazing mother, Lilibet. I think we would have been happy together.’

‘We're happy together the way we are, too,’ she says softly. ‘And you might not be Caroline’s father, but you are the most amazing godfather. Remember when all of her friends were going to that father-daughter dance at the River Club when she was almost nine? Ben had already moved back to Paris at that point and you took her and she had such a wonderful time.’

He squeezes her. ‘You flatter me, my darling, but I love you for it.’

‘I love you, Nicky,’ she says, burying her face in his chest. ‘And who knows, if we have the chance to do life all over again, I might say yes.’

She can feel the rumble of his laugh. ‘I'll remember that.’

‘Good,’ she says. ‘Because, Nicky… Mike and I, we've been happy. But he's made me so unhappy too, for so many years, and I thought that part was over finally, but now…’ to her embarrassment she's crying again. ‘But now he's doing it again, and Nicky, we're married, how can he do this? Where is he?’

He holds her tight. ‘I know, Lilibet. I know. It will be all right. Everything will be okay.’

‘I don't know that it will,’ she admits, her words muffled against his chest. ‘I can't believe he's doing this.’

‘I know, sweetheart. I know. But it will be okay.’

‘If he doesn't come back… how can I tell Caroline?’

‘What is it that you like to say? Something about evil being sufficient…?’

‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ she says, pulling back and wiping away her tears. ‘You’re right. And God, Nicky, I don’t want to ruin her college experience. She’s already had so much to deal with these past two weeks and I can’t put more of my own mess on her.’

‘She’ll be okay,’ he reassures her. ‘She knows that you love her. That’s all she needs.’

‘She needs her father, too.’

He doesn’t say anything because she knows he doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t, either. She buries her face in his chest again and closes her eyes, letting go, letting herself cry.


	19. Chapter 19

The week goes by so slowly. Classes are the same--Dr. Skoda is still in New York for whatever trial he’s testifying on, so her paper comes back, graded by the TA. She gets an A, but she’s disappointed that Skoda didn’t read it.

She and Annie go to one of her cousins’ parties, with Eliza and Kip, and she does have a good time. She Skypes with Lucas every day, and he does indeed move into his new apartment on Wednesday.

‘I won’t give you a video tour, darling, I want you to see it for yourself. Miranda was a great help, and I hope you’ll like it.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ she tells him. ‘I’m excited to see you.’

‘Me, too.’

 

She continues reading her mother’s journals.

_I am expecting a daughter. A daughter! The tests results came back this morning and she is healthy, she will be wonderful, and… oh, I’m so excited!!!!!_

And, _I felt her move for the first time today!!!!! I’ll admit that I have been concerned that she hasn’t yet, because I’m nearly twenty weeks pregnant, but Barbara said that everything is fine and I felt her move!!!!! I felt her kick!!!!!_

Reading her mother’s words, seeing her excitement, eases any remaining concerns.

_I’ve decided on her name. Caroline. I think it will be perfect for her. It’s the name of someone I have great affection for, even if I only knew her a brief time--Mike’s great-aunt._

_I can’t wait to meet her, of course, and there’s only three months to go… but I also love being pregnant. I love feeling her every movement, her hiccups, her kicks._

_Frankly, I don’t know if I’d be able to share this complete miracle with him even if he was still here. This has been so deeply personal for me--carrying our child, our daughter, feeling every single one of her movements--would Mike be able to understand? It’s miraculous. I had no idea it would be like this. I had no idea I’d be filled with so much joy and I knew that that I’d be so happy._

_I’m so, so lucky. I’m so grateful._

_It may be--it will be--just the two of us. I hope that I can be enough for her._

Well, she thinks to herself, knowing this… yes. It is.

 

She hasn’t talked to Mom all week. Any time she’s called Nicky has picked up, and while she and Mom email, it’s not the same.

Mike finally texted her back on Wednesday.

_Out of town for a while. Hope you’re okay._

_Where are you?_ she wrote back.

 _I’ll text you when I’m back_ , he wrote. _Not sure when that will be._

She mentions that to Mom in her email on Thursday.

_Mike told me that he’s out of town and he’ll text me when he’s back, she writes. When will he be back? Where is he?_

_Can you and I have lunch on Friday? I love you._

Mom emails her back late that night.

_I’d love to see you for lunch tomorrow, darling. Why don’t you come to the office when you get in?_

_I love you._

 

She gets on the train after her quantitative reasoning class. Lucas is at work--today is his first day--so she texts him instead of calling him. She’s to head to his office to pick up her keys. She’s so excited to see the apartment and she plans to cook him dinner tonight as a surprise.

The train gets in early again and she heads up to her mother’s office. She has a larger bag with her this weekend as she plans to leave some things at Lucas’s apartment so she won’t need to pack each time she comes down. She hops on the 6 and gets off at 68th Street to walk to her mother’s office.

To her surprise, Nicky is waiting for her.

‘Hi, darling,’ her godfather says, standing up to hug her. She hugs him back automatically, confused, looking for Jessica, who is not at her desk.

‘Hi, Nicky,’ she says. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Lilibet is going to meet us for lunch when she’s done with her patients, so why don’t you and I go and get a table and she’ll join us in a bit. I’m taking you both to Vaucluse.’

‘But Nicky--’

He wraps his arm around her shoulders and guides her to the door. ‘Let me take your bag, darling, and let’s go.’

‘Nicky--!’

She looks over her shoulder as they leave her mother’s office; Jessica has reappeared, carrying a cup of coffee, and waves to her. The door closes behind them and he keeps his arm around her, talking about Archie’s trip to Paris, how he’s promised to bring them all back macarons, and other things she doesn’t pay attention to.

His conversation carries them down the block and a half to the restaurant, where Nicky greets the maitre d’ with a kiss. The elegant older Frenchwoman responds, telling him she hasn’t seen him in ages. She takes her weekend bag and hands it to the coatroom attendant, then follows Nicky and the maitre d’ to their table.

They take their seats and Nicky opens the wine list, deciding on a Beaujolais after consulting her. But once their wine has been decided he is forced to look at her.

‘You look beautiful, sweetheart. How's Yale?’ he asks, an attempt to distract her.

‘What's going on, Nicky? Where's Mike?’

He looks down at the table. ‘That's for Lilibet to answer.’

She sighs. ‘But you know. Is it work, what?’

‘Your mother will answer your questions, Caroline,’ he says gently, looking back at her. ‘She's had a tough week, darling, so please be gentle with her.’

She frowns but then their wine arrives. Nicky takes a sip and pronounces it excellent; a glass is poured for her.

‘Nicky, please tell me what's going on,’ she begs him, ignoring the wine. She's worried.

‘You and I can talk after lunch,’ he tells her quietly. ‘Here's Lilibet.’

She turns and sees her mother and her heart squeezes tight. She looks exhausted, utterly and completely, and thin--too thin, as though she hasn't had anything to eat in a week. However, when she spies her, her mother smiles.

‘Hello, Caroline,’ Mom says warmly. ‘Oh, darling, I feel so lucky that I get to see you three weeks in a row. You look so lovely.’

Her mother hugs her tight and she returns the hug, feeling how thin her mother has become. ‘Hi, Mommy.’

Her mother kisses her cheek and releases her. ‘I’m ready for a glass of wine. Nicky, what did you order?’

‘A Beaujolais. Is that all right?’ Nicky says, and when she turns to look at him her mother steps away and slides into her chair.

‘Perfect,’ she says, reaching for her glass and taking a deep sip. ‘Ah. That’s better. So, darling, how was your week? Did you get your Psych paper back?’ Her mother opens her menu as she responds, telling her about her grades, her classes, and the party Tucker and Oliver had. They all give their orders to the waiter and when he leaves, she turns to her mother.

‘So what’s going on, Mom?’ she asks as gently as she can. ‘Where’s Mike?’

Her mother picks up her glass of wine and says, deliberately casual, ‘He just had to go out of town for a bit.’

‘Where is he?’ she says.

‘I’m not sure,’ her mother admits after a long moment.

‘Wait, what? You don’t know where he is? What happened?’ she asks, completely shocked.

Her mother looks helplessly at Nick, who says, ‘He just needs some time.’

‘Time? Why?’

Nick and her mother exchange a glance. ‘He’s had a lot on his plate lately, darling,’ Mom says cautiously. ‘And just needs a little break.’

Their food arrives and her mother busies herself with her silverware. Nicky pours everyone more wine. She has the suspicion that despite Mom’s very careful wording, the “things on his plate” have to do with her.

‘When did he go?’ she asks them.

‘On Saturday,’ her mother says, picking up her fork.

Oh, shit, she thinks. Oh, God, it is her fault. ‘Mommy--’ she says, ‘oh, Mommy, it’s my fault.’

Her mother lays down her fork and looks at her, completely serious. ‘No, Caroline. No, it is not your fault. Nothing is your fault. Nothing at all.’

She looks down at her plate. If she hadn’t told Mike via Mom that she didn’t want to see him, then he’d still be here. Then he wouldn’t have gone away to do whatever it is he’s doing. Just like when she told Mom she thought that he wouldn’t have wanted her if they’d been married when she was seven. And when she was eight and in the hospital and he came for dinner and she got angry at him and he left.

It’s her fault. Oh, God, it’s her fault.

‘Oh, Mommy…’ she blinks back tears. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Caroline, please don’t cry,’ her mother says, reaching out for her hand. ‘Oh, sweetheart, it’s not your fault. Mike just has--Mike needs some time alone. He's done this as long as I've known him. He'll be back soon.’

She looks at her mother, this woman who has loved Mike for a quarter of a century. Who has put up with so much pain from him. Who has always welcomed him back. And she sees the pain in her mother’s eyes and knows that she shouldn't share how she feels with her, not now, because that will only hurt her more. Because that would break her heart.

‘He’s been gone a week,’ she says finally, when she’s sure she won’t start crying. ‘When do you think he’ll come back?’

Her mother lets go of her hand and starts to pick at her salad. ‘Soon, I’m sure.’

‘Have you even talked to him?’

‘I’ve texted him,’ she hedges.

‘It’ll be fine, Caroline,’ Nicky says, cutting in before she can press further. He reaches out and takes her mother’s hand; she squeezes it so tightly her knuckles turn white. ‘I’m just going to stay with Lilibet for a while.’

‘Thank you, Nicky,’ she tells her godfather.

Her mother releases Nicky’s hand and picks up her fork again. ‘I promise you, darling, everything will be fine. I would appreciate it, though, if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone but Lucas.’

‘Why? Haven’t you told Grandmother and Grandfather?’

‘There’s no need to worry them over nothing,’ her mother says. Her voice is completely emotionless now as she continues to pick at her salad. ‘It’s fine, darling. It will be fine. Now, I think your food is getting cold.’

She picks up her fork and takes a bite of her trout.

 

Her mother excuses herself halfway through lunch--‘Sorry, darling, I have a patient. I love you’--and she and Nick are left alone. She looks over at her mother’s plate; she took maybe three bites.

‘So Mom said that she’s texted him. Did he text her back? Have they talked?’

‘He’s texted her, yes.’

‘Well, what did he say?’ she asks, taking a sip of wine to calm down.

‘He said that he was out of town for a while,’ he tells her, sipping his own wine. ‘Listen, Caroline, I promise that I’ll take care of Lilibet.’

‘I appreciate it, Nicky. Thank you.’

Their plates are cleared. ‘If you need me, darling, I’m here, all right?’ her godfather says.

She nods. ‘I know, Nicky. Listen, I have to go pick up the keys from Lucas. Thank you for lunch. I love you.’

‘I love you too, Caroline,’ he says, kissing her cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon, okay?’

‘Okay,’ she promises, and leaves, collecting her bag from the coatroom.

Outside the restaurant, she hails a cab. ‘14th and Avenue C, please,’ she tells the cabbie, and leans back against the seat.

 

She presses the buzzer for Katy and Pat’s apartment. After a moment, Katy presses the intercom. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s Caroline Olivet,’ she says.

After another long moment, the door buzzes open and she heads to the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. When she arrives on four, the door to Katy and Pat’s apartment is open and Katy is waiting there.

‘This is a surprise,’ Katy tells her, her voice frank. ‘Come in, then.’

She nods and steps into the spotlessly clean, if slightly shabby, apartment.

‘Want something to drink?’

‘I’m all right,’ she says.

‘Have a seat.’

She sits on the sofa and Katy perches on the armchair across the room. They look at each other silently.

‘I know you're my aunt,’ she says at last. ‘My real aunt.’

Katy nods slowly. ‘I'm surprised they finally told you.’

‘I figured it out. One of the classes I'm taking… we did a genetics thing. Anyway, I talked to Mom and Mike about it. And--well, I'm angry at Mike.’

Katy’s lips compress and she crosses her arms in front of her. ‘Oh, of course you are. Your mother was the one who kept you away from him, but why would you blame the woman who holds the purse strings?’

‘That's absolutely not the case,’ she says, fighting to keep her calm.

‘Mike told me everything. That she wouldn't leave her husband. That he wanted to be in your life but she refused to consider a divorce or even to tell you about him. That she wouldn’t let him see you.’

She frowns. ‘And did he tell you that my mother called him many, many times to tell him that she was pregnant and that he never called her back? Or that the night they came together, the next day, he told her that he didn't care about her at all? Or that Mom set up meetings with him every single month, without fail, until I was four? Or that when I was seven years old, when he and Mom started dating, I asked him one day if he wanted children and he told me--he told his child--that he never wanted children ever? That he never wanted to be a father, that he couldn't picture himself as a dad. Did he tell you that?’

Katy’s face has gone pale; her arms are at her sides, now, no longer crossed defensively. ‘No,’ she says at last, clearing her throat. ‘No, he didn't tell me any of that.’

‘Well, he told me that, Katy. So perhaps you can understand why I'm angry at him. But he doesn't need to take that out on Mom.’

‘What do you mean?’ Katy says, leaning forward suddenly, worried.

‘We were supposed to have dinner with my boyfriend last weekend. And I told Mom to tell Mike I was angry at him and didn't want him to come. And apparently he left on Saturday and he hasn't been home. Do you know where he is?’

Katy runs a hand over her eyes. ‘He called me the other day and said he was on the Eastern Shore with a friend. I didn't think it was anything strange.’

‘Do you have the friend’s number?’ she asks. ‘He's not texting me back or picking up my calls.’

‘Yeah,’ Katy says, standing up. She finds a piece of paper on the bulletin board and takes it down to copy. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, folding the piece of paper and sticking it in the pocket of her dress, the stands up. ‘I have to go. Please don't tell Mike I was here.’

‘I won't,’ Katy says. ‘Caroline--I'm sorry we don't know each other better.’

‘Me too,’ she admits.

‘Maybe we can change that.’

‘Maybe,’ she agrees, privately thinking it's a bit too late. ‘Thanks again.’

 

After picking up the keys from Lucas, having a quick tour of his office, and meeting his colleagues, she heads two blocks over to his new apartment. Once inside she unpacks her things, takes a shower, then picks up her cell phone to call Mike. She dials the number but doesn't press the call button right away.

What will she say to him? Will she lie and tell him she's not angry? Maybe she should, if it will mean he'll come home to Mom. She'll have to lie convincingly, though.

She presses the call button. The phone rings three times, then is picked up.

‘Hello?’ It's Mike.

‘Hi, Mike, it's Caroline,’ she says.

There's silence on the line.

‘Um, I just wanted to make sure you were still going to come up to New Haven next weekend for Parents’ Weekend. It starts on Friday.’

There's another long silence, but then he says, ‘I thought you didn't want to see me.’

‘I was just a little upset,’ she lies. ‘Of course I want you there.’

‘Did your mom tell you to call me? he asks her.

‘No, of course not,’ she tells him. ‘She doesn't even know I'm calling you.’

He sighs gustily. ‘I don't know, Caroline.’

‘You said you felt bad for not being there when I was growing up,’ she tells him, playing her last card. ‘Make it up to me now and be there.’

He's silent for so long she's afraid they've been disconnected. Finally he says, ‘I'll think about it. Look, I've got to go. Thanks for calling.’

He hangs up before she can say anything else. She stares at the phone. What happened?


	20. Chapter 20

He's sitting on Kay’s porch, looking down at the water, a beer in his hand, when the phone rings. He stands up and makes his way inside--Kay said she'd call when she was leaving the precinct and they'd go pick up crabs from the docks--so when he picks up he's surprised to hear his daughter. 

‘Um, I just wanted to make sure you were still going to come up to New Haven next weekend for Parents’ Weekend. It starts on Friday,’ she tells him. 

He remembers, of course, he and Liz had booked their hotel room six months ago so they'd be sure to get one. How can he go now? Finally he says, ‘I thought you didn't want to see me.’

‘I was just a little upset,’ she tells him. He knows she's lying. ‘Of course I want you there.’

‘Did your mom tell you to call me?’ he asks her. 

‘No, of course not,’ she tells him. ‘She doesn't even know I'm calling you.’

He sighs. He doubts that, but she doesn't sound like she's lying. ‘I don't know, Caroline.’

‘You said you felt bad for not being there when I was growing up,’ she tells him, and his heart tightens with pain. ‘Make it up to me now and be there.’

He has no idea what to say to that. Finally he says, ‘I'll think about it. Look, I've got to go. Thanks for calling.’ He hangs up before she can say anything else… or he can.

Shit.

He’s been avoiding Caroline’s texts, Liz’s texts, their calls… it was easy to here on Tilghman Island, that’s for sure. The cell service left something to be desired, that’s why he called Katy from Kay’s home phone and gave her the number in case there was an emergency… oh. So that’s where Caroline got it. Well, at least Katy’s not gonna give it to Liz and she definitely would’ve made Caroline promise not to either before she gave it to her. Katy didn’t like Liz any longer. She blamed her for keeping Caroline away from him, away from her, and he didn’t do anything to correct her mistaken assumption. He was selective in what he told her about what happened. He needed to have one person who believed he did the right thing, even if he lied to his sister about it.

He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe if he stays here long enough, he won’t have to make a decision. Maybe Liz will make it for him.

When he got to Baltimore he didn’t know what to do, either, but then at the train station he’d run into Kay and she asked him what he was doing here and it all came out. It was a relief to see her--probably the best person he could see, other than Lennie, and that wasn’t an option--and she’d driven them both back to her house on Tilghman Island and set him up in the guest room.

She was in charge of things now on those barrier islands, she told him, telling him also that she didn’t miss the Fugitive Squad and while she did miss Homicide, it wasn’t the same any more. He could understand that. He missed Manhattan so much but by the time he got back it had changed beyond recognition. 

He'd spent the week on her porch, thinking, trying to figure this shit out. Why he did that to Liz. Why he couldn't let himself be happy. Why he just couldn't give Caroline time to work through the fact they lied to her her whole life. He was mad at his daughter because she was angry--and she had every right to be, too, but he couldn't take it. Or really, he couldn't take that she wasn't angry at her mother. 

Because Liz was the one who lied to her every day of her life. Liz was the one who stayed married to Ben. Liz was the one who raised her, who she trusted, who she loved. And she loved her mother far more than she ever loved him, or ever would. 

Because Liz was the one who took care of her. Liz was the one who she cried for at night when she was a little girl. Liz was the one who taught her to read and swim and sail and play tennis. Liz is the one who patched up the skinned knees and bumped shins. Liz is the one who sang her lullabies at night and held her and loved her more than anything or any one. Even him. 

And Caroline knew that. And Caroline accepted that. Because Caroline and her mother had been on their own for so long, and because Liz cherished her in a way he's never been able to cherish anyone. Because Caroline knew the difference between them, and knew that if the roles were reversed Liz would never have allowed them to be apart. She never would have let her go. 

And that's the problem. He did let her, them, go. He's doing that now. And he was so close to making the situation irreversible when Helen stopped him from making the biggest mistake of his life. 

He doesn't know what to do next, though. Losing Liz… the thought of losing her turns his stomach, stops his heart. He can't lose her. But the thought of confronting her… of telling her what happened… how can he go back to her and see the absolute devastation he caused? And he knows that she is devastated. He finally listened to her voicemails yesterday and he wept, sobbed, in his car. He'd driven across the bridge to listen to them and the forty-two messages she'd left had only gotten progressively sadder. 

It took him an hour to stop crying enough to drive back to Kay’s. she was there when he got back and took one look at him and dragged him down to the beach. They threw rocks in the water until it got too dark to see, then went back up to the house and she made grilled cheese sandwiches and they talked. 

She knew what it was like to be the one left behind. She'd lost a partner in the line of duty, she'd lost friends, she'd walked that narrow line between staying true to your roots and going on and doing something else, anything else. 

‘And look at me now,’ she said, gesturing with her beer. ‘Back where I grew up. Because for me, after everything… it got to be too much. It took everything from me. My partner. My friends. My captain.’ She sighed. ‘You, though… you made it out with the person you needed the most.’

Yeah, he did. Somehow he made it out after throwing everything else in his life into some sort of bonfire, a burnt offering like the fires his relatives, his ancestors, used to build on sacred days. He remembers one, from when they went to Ireland when he was seven, remembers the fire and the smoke and staying up all night, people leaping over the flames, and then waking up the next morning in the cold grass, the fire nothing but embers. 

But he made it out with Liz and Caroline. And now… what is he doing?

The phone rings again--Kay this time. He hangs up, finishes his beer, and grabs his shoes to walk down to the docks and meet her. 

 

‘Leaving’s easy,’ she says later, the remnants of their crab feast scattered over the worn wooden picnic table in her backyard. ‘I never knew why people think it’s so hard. Staying, that's hard.’

‘Yeah,’ he agrees, looking down at the water. ‘Every time somethin’ went wrong… I left.’

‘Everyone left. After we were all scattered… well, Frank didn't choose to have another stroke, but he and Mary got out of Baltimore, went up to Harford County before that happened. But Munch, he left. And Kellerman, and Bayliss… Christ, Mike, sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about Tim. Our fair-haired choir boy…’ she chuckles without humor.

‘I remember,’ he says, because he'd come down for the funeral, a closed-casket ceremony because there was nothing left of Tim’s head after he ate his gun. He shudders. 

‘Even Ed Danvers left. And I tried to stay, but bein’ in Baltimore… it felt wrong. And so I put in for a transfer and bought this house and here I am.’

‘You have your own place,’ he says slowly, thinking through what he needs to say. ‘Our apartment… well, it's not really “ours,” it's Liz’s. She grew up there. And everything in it, practically, is hers or her family’s. And sometimes it feels like we don't have a life together. That I just stepped into hers, became a part of her life. That she didn't become a part of mine.’ He takes a sip of beer and continues, ‘I guess she'll give the apartment to Caroline when she finishes college but right now it just feels like I'm waiting for our life together to start. And I've been waiting for a long time.’ He sighs. ‘When we got back together again… the last thing I wanted to do was uproot Caroline, make this transition more difficult for her. But maybe we should've just had a fresh start then, all of us.’

‘Did you feel this way the first time you were with her?’

He shrugs. ‘I can't remember. I don't think so. It was… it was different.’

‘How is it different now?’

He thinks, then says, ‘she's had a whole life there without me. And there's a lot of ghosts there.’

She nods. ‘Did you tell her that?’

He shakes his head. ‘I dunno that she'd listen. She loves that apartment. It's her home.’

Kay snorts. ‘You can be an idiot sometimes, you know. You don't think she'd listen? That's what she does best.’

‘Yeah,’ he acknowledges. ‘You're right.’

‘Just talk to her. And if she's gonna give Caroline the apartment in a couple years anyway… just let it come to a natural end.’

‘You're right,’ he says again, because she is. ‘And anyway, after this… God, Kay, I fucked up.’

‘Ya think?’ she asks him. ‘Look, I’ve tried to step around it, Mike, because God knows I’ve made enough mistakes myself, I’m not in any position to judge anyone, but… you had it all. And you just stupidly threw it all away. I get it, I do, but… I dunno if Liz is going to. If you’d gone home, apologized right away, maybe, yes. But you ran away and came down here and it’s been almost a week and you haven’t talked to her except to text her that you were gonna be out of town for a while. How do you think she’s gonna react to that if you do ever get over yourself enough and go back up there?’

He runs a hand over his eyes. ‘Caroline called me this afternoon. She must’ve gotten your number from Katy. She told me she wasn’t angry at me any more, that she wanted me to come to Parents’ Weekend next weekend still. She said, “‘You said you felt bad for not being there when I was growing up, so make it up to me now and be there.”’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘I told her I’d think about it.’

Kay shakes her head. ‘Yeah, you did fuck up. You’re losing your daughter, too, Mike.’

‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ he tells her, suddenly defensive.

‘God knows why, but that woman loves you,’ Kay tells him. ‘I’ve never seen someone so in love with anyone else. Quite frankly, it made me jealous. I want that. So why the hell would you think she’d be better off without you? And more importantly, why do you think you’d be better of without her?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’

She takes a sip of her beer. ‘Listen, Mike, I’ve liked having you here. It’s nice to have a war buddy, y’know. But you can’t run away forever.’

‘I know,’ he tells her. ‘I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.’

She stands up. ‘Well, make up your mind. I’ll drive you to the train station in the morning. There’s a train to New York from Easton tomorrow at 6:20.’ Before he can say anything else, she turns around and walks into the house.

He stares down at his beer for a long time before standing up and gathering together the remains of their dinner to put in the trash.

 

In the morning he and Kay drive to the train station in silence. She parks the car in front of the station and turns to look at him.

‘Everything is gonna be okay, Mike,’ she tells him.

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think it will.’

‘Well, you don’t know if you don’t try,’ she tells him. ‘Good luck.’

He hugs her. ‘Thanks, Kay, for everything.’

They hear the train whistle and she hugs him back. ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘You too.’ He opens the door and heads into the station to get on the train back to New York.

 

When he gets back to the city he heads over to Katy’s. He doesn't know what else to do--he's definitely not ready to go back to the apartment yet and he doesn't know where else to go. The subway is delayed so it takes a long time to get there, but he finally does, and he presses the buzzer for her apartment. 

‘Yes?’ comes his sister’s voice. 

‘It's Mike.’

There's a long moment of silence before she buzzes him up. He takes the stairs and she's standing in the doorway of her apartment when he reaches the fourth floor. Her hands are on her hips and she's frowning. 

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, stopping short. 

‘Come in,’ she tells him. ‘I'm not doing this in the hall.’

He steps into the apartment as she moves aside; she closes the door behind him and they go into the living room. 

‘You know, I didn't want to believe Caroline when she came here yesterday asking after you. But I went over to Liz’s apartment and she confirmed it.’

‘What d’you mean?’ he asks, his gut twisting. 

‘All that bullshit you fed me about Liz keepin’ Caroline away from you, not wanting you involved… when really it was you all along. When you were the one who told your daughter you didn't want children. When you didn't pick up the phone when Liz tried to tell you. When you _lied to me for a fuckin’ decade._ ’ 

‘Katy, it wasn’t like that--’ he tries to tell her, even though yes, it was exactly like that. His heart sinks.

‘Don’t give me that,’ she snaps. ‘Caroline told me what you told her. And I have to say, it rang true. And Liz confirmed it--reluctantly. She didn’t want to throw you under the bus, you know. But I told her what Caroline told me and she didn’t deny it.’

‘Goddamn it, Katy, I needed someone on _my_ side!’ he bursts out. ‘I needed someone to be on my side, not Liz’s.’

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did!’ she shouts. ‘God, Mike, I barely know my niece because I was so angry at Liz and I didn’t want to accidentally let Caroline know. But I was mad at her for nothing.’ She takes a deep breath and continues, quietly, and says, ‘I lost the chance to get to know my niece. And God, Mike, she’s so beautiful. And… and now I’m afraid I’ve lost that chance for good. It’s been too long.’

‘Katy--’ he says, and she shakes her head.

‘Go away,’ she tells him. ‘I don’t want to see you for a while.’

‘Katy--’

‘No, Mike,’ she tells him. ‘Not now.’

Oh, Christ, he thinks, standing up. He runs his hand over his eyes. ‘Please, Katy--’

‘She’s eighteen years old,’ she says softly. ‘And I’ve seen her maybe ten times her whole life.’

He looks at her for a long moment and then leaves her apartment.


	21. Chapter 21

The apartment phone rings and she stands up, setting down her glass of wine to answer it. It’s just past five, and she’d shooed Nicky out of the apartment this morning as Archie was coming back from Paris. She was reluctant to encroach on their time together but she wanted him to stay, needed him to stay. It was difficult to be here alone. Caroline is off with Lucas and Mike is God-knows-where, and she’s here, alone with her glass of wine, alone with her thoughts.

‘Yes?’ she says, picking up the phone.

‘Mrs. O’Connor is here to see you,’ Tony says.

She’s confused for a moment before she realizes he means Katy. ‘Please send her up.’

‘Thank you, Dr. Olivet.’

She hangs up the phone and runs a hand through her hair. Why is Katy here? Did Mike ask her to talk to her? She hasn’t seen Katy in years--only a handful of times since the wedding, and each time she’d been cold. She thought they’d be friends again, after everything… but no. She walks to the front door when she hears a knock and opens it to Katy.

She still looks the same as she did when they first met twenty-five years ago. Her hair has a streak of silver in it but otherwise she still looks like the handsome woman she is.

‘Hello, Katy,’ she says politely. ‘Would you like to come in?’

‘Yes, thanks, Liz,’ Katy says, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. ‘Um, sorry for not callin’ first, I just needed to talk to you.’

‘Of course. Can I get you something to drink?’ she asks, shutting the door behind Katy and leading her down the hall to the living room.

‘Whatever you’re having,’ she says, taking a seat in one of the slipper chairs. She pours Katy a glass of wine and brings her own glass to the other chair. ‘Thanks,’ she says, after taking a sip.

She nods. ‘How are you?’

Katy looks down into her glass of wine. ‘Caroline came to see me this afternoon.’

She’s startled by that. ‘Really?’

Katy nods, still looking down. ‘Yeah. So, um, I’ve gotta ask, Liz--when Caroline was growing up, did you set up meetings with Mike so that he could see her?’

She nods, confused, but Katy’s not looking at her, so she clears her throat and says, ‘Yes, I did. Every month until she was four.’

Katy nods again. ‘And you tried to call him when you found out you were pregnant?’

‘Katy, what’s going on?’ she asks, and her sister-in-law looks up at her.

‘Please, Liz--did you try to tell him?’

‘Yes,’ she says slowly. ‘Yes, I tried to tell him I was pregnant.’

Katy lets out a long sigh. ‘And did he tell Caroline that he didn’t want children?’

Her heart sinks. ‘Katy, why are you asking me all these questions?’

‘Did he tell you that he didn’t care about you?’

‘Katy--’ she says, setting down her wine glass. ‘Katy, what’s going on?’

‘I owe you an apology,’ she tells her. ‘The thing is, Liz, I thought that you were keeping Caroline away from Mike. Away from me. That you didn’t want him involved.’ She doesn’t know what to say. Katy continues, ‘And I’ve been so angry at you for a decade, but I was told a pack of lies. So--I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t need to apologize,’ she says softly, her heart sinking. It explains so much…

‘No, I do,’ Katy says. ‘I let my anger get in the way of having a relationship with my niece. And I’ve missed so much. She’s so beautiful, Liz. And smart, too, I assume, since she’s going to Yale.’

She nods. ‘Obviously I agree with you,’ she tells her, and they both chuckle. ‘I hope you’ll have a chance to see her more often.’

‘I do, too,’ Katy says, and takes a sip of wine. ‘Do you have photos?’

‘Are you kidding?’ she asks, trying to be lighthearted. ‘Thousands.’

Katy laughs. ‘I’d love to see some, if you don’t mind. When she was a baby.’

‘Of course,’ she says, standing up to get an album from the shelf next to the fireplace. She selects the one of the first three months of Caroline’s life and hands it to Katy.

‘Can we look at it together?’ Katy asks. ‘I’d love to hear the stories.’

‘Yes,’ she says, ‘let’s sit on the sofa.’

They flip through the album and she tells Katy stories when she asks for them. She likes remembering these times, when Caroline was so little, her only child. She loves being a mother and she is so, so lucky to have had Caroline, her wonderful daughter.

‘Thank you, Liz,’ Katy says when they finish.

‘If you’d like some photos of her, I can have copies made.’

‘I’d love that. Thank you.’

She nods.

‘I should go, I need to get home.’ She pauses, then says, ‘thank you, Liz. And again, I’m sorry.’

‘I’m sorry too, Katy. Believe me, I wanted her to know you.’

‘Yeah,’ Katy says, standing up. ‘Well, I hope you’ll come for dinner sometime soon.’

She nods. ‘That would be nice. Thank you.’

‘Thank you.’

She walks Katy to the door and they hug, briefly and awkwardly, before Katy leaves and she closes the door behind her.

What was that all about? She doesn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not when Mike still isn’t here. She goes back into the living room and tries to call him again, then tries to text him.

_Please, Mike, please come home. Please tell me where you are. Please call me back._

Nothing, again, just as it’s been nothing for the past week.

She goes to bed. There’s nothing else she wants to do.

 

She wakes up late again--she hasn’t slept this much in years, not since the early days of her pregnancy, when she’d slept for fifteen hour stretches and then still needed a nap. It’s nine o’clock by the time she wakes up and despite having barely any lunch and no dinner yesterday, she’s not hungry. She forces herself to dress and take Sadie out for a walk after feeding her. She stops by the cafe at the Church of the Heavenly Rest and gets a cup of coffee and a croissant, then takes Sadie through a long walk through the park.

They finally turn back to home around one o’clock. They’ve walked the entire park, it feels like, and she’s exhausted. As they turn onto 76th, her phone beeps, and she digs it out of her pocket.

It’s Mike, she sees, and her heart gives a leap. She unlocks her phone with trembling hands and reads the message.

_Can we meet up?_

_Yes_ , she types back quickly. _When? I’m just heading back home after walking Sadie._

The three dots seem to stay forever as she anxiously waits for his response.

_I’m downtown. Can you meet me in the Village? Maybe at that place you like, Buvette? In an hour?_

_Yes,_ she writes back. _I have to change and then I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you._

The three dots reappear, but they go away again and he doesn’t write anything else. She stuffs her phone back in her pocket and heads back to the apartment quickly.

She takes a record-breaking shower, yanks on a linen dress, and rushes downstairs to get a cab. Miraculously, she gets one right away, and more miraculously, they get to the restaurant in record time. She is exactly on time when she walks into the restaurant and looks around for him. He’s not there yet, so she asks for a table and takes the seat facing the door. She orders a glass of wine and waits.

Ten minutes go by before she pulls out her phone to text him.

_I’m here. Where are you?_

He writes back, _Sorry, on my way. Be there in five._

But then five minutes go by, and ten, and when she texts him again he doesn’t respond. She’s finished her wine by now and orders another, her heart sinking.

She’s been at the restaurant for an hour when he texts her, _I’m not gonna make it, Liz._

 _What do you mean?_ she writes back, then tries to call him. The call goes directly to voicemail, which is still full. _Where are you? What’s going on?_

She pays for her wine and gets a cab and heads home, trying not to cry.

She enters through the lobby, intending to pick up her mail. Tony greets her and says, ‘Mr. Logan left this for you.’ He hands her a manila envelope and she opens it, peering inside to see his keys and his wedding ring. She hears a dull roar and the world goes dark.

 

She opens her eyes and stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Her head aches and when she raises her hand to touch her temple she sees an IV tube. She turns her head and sees that she’s in a hospital room. From the window, she can tell she’s at Lenox Hill, which makes sense, of course, because she lives across the street. And suddenly it comes rushing back--Mike texting her to meet him in the Village, and he never showed up, and going home to find an envelope waiting for her with his keys and wedding ring. She closes her eyes again, but then she hears a knock at the door and has to open them.

A doctor comes in. ‘Hello. I’m Dr. Weston,’ she says. She’s a young woman with dark red hair and an air of cool competence. She picks up the clipboard at the end of her bed and flips through it. ‘Well, Ms. Olivet,’ the doctor says, ‘you had quite a nasty fall. Your doorman, who brought you in, said that you fainted and hit your head on the marble floor. You have a minor concussion, but I’m more concerned about the low blood sugar and dehydration.’

‘I’m sorry?’ she asks, clearing her throat.

‘Well, the blood tests came back and showed that you were severely dehydrated and had rock-bottom blood sugar levels. That was likely why you fainted. We’ll need to keep you in the hospital overnight for observation. You’ve been out for quite some time.’

She looks at the clock and sees that it’s nearly six. So, four hours or thereabouts.

‘Is there someone you’d like us to call? Your doorman said he would call your husband.’

She shakes her head and winces as the movement sets off a pounding headache. ‘No.’

The doctor says, ‘We won’t be able to release you tomorrow unless it’s into the care of another person.’

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘That’s fine. I’ll make a call later.’ She doesn’t know who she would call. Not Nicky, she’s taken up enough of his time. Not Caroline, she doesn’t want to worry her and distract her from school. Mike won’t answer. She’s not going to tell her parents, or Peter and Miranda, and how can she admit all of this to Teddy and Chrissy? Maybe Katy, but she doesn’t have her number.

‘There’s the call bell if you need anything,’ the doctor says. ‘Someone will check on you in a bit.’

‘Thank you,’ she says, and then, thank God, the doctor leaves.

Her head is pounding. She feels nauseous and dizzy. The room starts to spin and she closes her eyes again.

 

She must fall asleep because she’s woken up by a knock on the door. She opens her eyes as the door eases open, revealing, to her surprise, Tony. He’s in regular clothes for once, not his uniform, and he’s carrying one of her tote bags and a bouquet of flowers.

‘Hi, Dr. Liz,’ he says, offering her a smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better,’ she lies, and smiles back at him. ‘Thank you for bringing me to the hospital.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry that you got hurt. We--the doormen--wanted to get you some flowers,’ he tells her, setting the vase and flowers down on one of the end tables. ‘And I hope you don’t mind the impertinence, but I packed some of your things for you.’

‘Thank you so much, Tony, that's very thoughtful,’ she says, touched.

‘Of course,’ he says, shuffling his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, I called Mr. Logan but I wasn’t able to reach him.’

Her heart sinks again and the pounding in her head gets worse. ‘Thank you for trying.’

He nods. ‘Uh, I should go. Is there anything else I can get you? Would you like me to call Miss Caroline?’

‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘No, I don’t want to worry her.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean. All right. Well, please call me if you need anything.’

‘I will,’ she lies. ‘Thank you, Tony.’

‘Feel better soon,’ he tells her, and then he leaves and she bursts into tears.

 

She’s woken several times in the night for bloodwork and vital tests and each time she’s left alone she falls back into a sleep so deep it feels like she’s drugged. Every time she wakes up, though, she doesn’t feel at all rested.

She asks for a phone book in the morning and looks for Katy and Pat’s home number. She dials it and Pat picks up the phone.

‘Hi, Pat, it’s--um, it’s Liz Olivet,’ she says, feeling awkward. ‘I was wondering if I could speak to Katy, please.’

‘Hi, Liz,’ Pat says, and she hears the confusion in his voice. ‘Uh, let me see if she’s here. Hang on a sec.’ She hears him set the phone down, and footsteps, then muffled voices. A minute later, Katy comes on.

‘Hi, Liz,’ Katy says, her voice warmer than it’s been in years. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’m sorry, this is stupid,’ she begins awkwardly, ‘but I hit my head yesterday afternoon and I have a bit of a concussion. Lenox Hill won’t release me unless it’s with someone, and I don’t want to bother Caroline.’

‘Oh, my God, Liz, are you okay?’ Katy asks.

‘I’m fine,’ she assures her, although she is not. ‘I was wondering--would you mind coming up and signing me out? I don’t want to bother you either, but I… I haven’t been able to reach Mike.’ There’s a long silence, too long, so she breaks it by says, ‘I’m sorry, Katy, that’s asking too much. I’ll call my cousins. Sorry for bothering you.’ She hangs up quickly, her heart racing, cursing herself inwardly. She shouldn’t have told Katy that. Katy doesn’t call her back, so she scrolls through her address book on her phone. Who can she call who won’t ask questions?

The nurse comes in and asks if she’s managed to get in touch with someone.

She says, ‘Listen, I’ll sign release forms, liability forms, whatever, but I haven’t been able to reach my husband, and I live just across the street. I promise I’ll be fine.’

The nurse gives in after a long argument and she signs the forms promising she won’t sue the hospital. Finally, finally, she changes into the clothes Tony had brought and heads home.

Paul, the new doorman, asks her how she’s feeling and says that Tony walked Sadie last night and he walked and fed her this morning.

‘Thank you,’ she tells him, profusely grateful, making a mental note to triple their Christmas bonuses this year. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Please let us know if you need anything.’

When she finally gets back upstairs to the apartment and lets herself in, cuddling Sadie, who runs to greet her, she heads back to her bedroom and stares in astonishment at the scene in front of her. Mike’s dresser drawers are askew and empty, and the closet doors stand open and his side is empty too, and his nightstand has nothing there. And then the picture frames, too, are standing empty, all the photographs of the two of them gone.

So this is why he made her come all the way down to the Village, she thinks, her knees trembling. To give him time to pack. She makes her way over to the bed and sits down on it, taking deep, slow breaths.

He’s left.

 

She wakes up from a numbing sleep when the phone rings. She gropes for her cell phone, finally finding it, and looks at the number. It’s Caroline, so she lets it go to voicemail. She doesn’t know how she can talk to her right now.

She listens to the voicemail after she leaves it.

 _Hi, Mom_ , comes her daughter’s beautiful voice. _I’m heading back up to New Haven. I’m excited to see you next weekend for Parents’ Weekend. I love you. Call me tomorrow if you have time._

She closes her eyes and lowers the phone. She forgot about Parents’ Weekend. She’s going to have to come up with some excuse for her family as to Mike’s non-presence at the event. And she’ll have to tell her daughter eventually what’s happened… if she ever figures out what happened.

She gets out of bed. She has to take Sadie for a walk. It’ll have to be a quick one--she’s still feeling dizzy. She gets dressed and collects her and they go around the block before going back upstairs. She feeds her and changes her water, then gets some water herself. Until she drinks it, she had no idea how thirsty she was, and she must drink at least a liter before she feels better. And then she’s hungry, starving, and finds that she has nothing in the fridge. She makes up her mind to go out--she should get some more fresh air--and dresses carefully in a casual dress before walking down to Melon’s.

She opens the door and smells the food and she’s suddenly almost weak with hunger. She steps inside and spies Chrissy and Teddy almost immediately, cursing silently as they spot her and wave her over.

‘Hi, darling,’ Chrissy says, pulling her into a hug. She hugs her back, then Teddy, and takes the other chair at their table at their urging. Thankfully the waiter comes to take her drink order--she asks for a gin and tonic, though she doesn’t plan on drinking any--and provides a distraction. But she does have to meet Chrissy and Teddy’s curious gazes eventually.

‘How are you, Liz?’ Teddy asks. ‘We haven’t seen you and Mike in ages.’

‘I have to tell you both something,’ she says, just wanting to get it over with. ‘Mike is Caroline’s father.’

‘Oh,’ Chrissy says faintly. ‘And does he know?’

‘Yes,’ she says, still looking down at the table. ‘And Caroline too, now. And apparently my parents have known all along, and Peter and Miranda.’

There’s silence, and she looks up at them. They both look stunned. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she tells them. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. And I hope you can forgive me for lying to you.’

They don’t respond--they look too shocked to--and so she stands up.

‘Where are you going?’ Chrissy asks.

‘I’m going home,’ she tells them. ‘I’m sorry, again.’ She closes her eyes as a wave of dizziness washes over her and she hears someone stand up, feels Teddy’s hands guiding her back to her chair, pushing her down into it.

‘What’s going on with you, Liz?’ Teddy asks when she finally opens her eyes.

‘I have a minor concussion,’ she admits.

‘You need to go to the hospital!’ Chrissy exclaims, startled out of her shock.

‘I was in the hospital overnight. I was released this morning,’ she says woodenly, closing her eyes again.

‘And you didn’t call us?’ Teddy asks, confused.

‘It’s been a difficult week,’ she tells them, running a hand over her eyes.

‘Liz--’ Chrissy begins, and she opens her eyes to look at her. ‘I’m glad that Caroline isn’t Ben’s.’

‘Me too,’ Teddy tells her quickly. ‘Thank you for telling us. Now, let’s order--you look like you need some food.’

Chrissy concurs. ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight, Liz. And how did you get a concussion?’

Teddy orders and she says, ‘I just hit my head. It’s fine. I’m fine.’

‘And where’s Mike?’ Teddy asks her after the waiter brings their order to the kitchen.

‘He’s out of town,’ she forces herself to say calmly. ‘For work.’

‘Did you call him? When is he coming back?’ Chrissy presses.

‘Soon,’ she tells them, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting into tears. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

She sees Chrissy and Teddy exchange a concerned glance. Teddy says, ‘Why don’t you stay with us, darling, until he’s back? He’ll be back for Parents’ Weekend, right? We can all head up together.’

‘I’m fine,’ she lies. ‘Really. The hospital wouldn’t have released me if I wasn’t all right.’

They look unconvinced.

‘Liz, not to be rude, but you really look unwell,’ Chrissy says.

‘I’m just hungry. You know, hospital food,’ she tells them, then asks, ‘how are the boys liking their jobs?’

Thankfully they let themselves be distracted.

 

They insist on walking her home and coming upstairs to make sure she’s all right. She doesn’t want them to--she hasn’t even looked at the living room yet, and the bedroom is a mess with everything gone--but she can’t stop them. They know she’s hiding something. They all go into the living room and her heart sinks when she notices all the empty picture frames. They notice them too.

‘I’m changing out some of the pictures,’ she says quickly. ‘The new ones haven’t arrived yet.’

‘Darling, what’s going on?’ Chrissy asks.

‘Nothing,’ she tells them, feeling tears come to her eyes. ‘Everything’s fine. I’m just very tired. Can we talk tomorrow?’

‘All right,’ Teddy says reluctantly. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, Liz.’

She hugs and kisses them both, shows them out the door, and sighs in relief when they go. Only then does she let herself cry.


	22. Chapter 22

It feels like the entire school is preparing for Parents’ Weekend. Well, it is, and she's enjoying having limited homework. She is excited to see her mother and the rest of the family, even though she's worried when she doesn't hear from Mike.

He finally texts her on Friday morning, after her mother has let her know she's on the train. She's supposed to meet the whole family for lunch in two hours at a French place near campus. 

_Sorry, but I won't be able to make it. Tied up with things._

_Please try to come_ , she writes back, frowning. _It's really important to me._

_Next time_ , he writes back. She doesn't respond, angry and disappointed. 

 

Her morning class was cancelled and so she has nothing to do but dwell on her father’s response. At least Ben went to things, even though he didn't enjoy them. And he's coming in a couple weeks to visit. 

She hasn't talked to Mom on the phone all week. They've just emailed. She knows something is badly wrong and she's very worried. Why isn't Mike coming? And why is Mom taking the train instead of driving up with Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Teddy? Mom texts her and interrupts her thoughts. 

_I just got to the hotel. If you're free, would you like to come over before lunch? I love you._

_Sure_ , she texts back immediately. _I'll be there in 20._

 _Great_ , writes Mom. 

She changes into the nice navy dress she planned to wear for lunch, brushes her hair and ties it back, then gathers her bag and heads out the door. 

 

Her mother is on the same floor as her last visit, and when she knocks she's startled at her mother’s appearance. She's lost a ton of weight and looks exhausted, though she's clearly made an effort to look as good as she can. She's too thin, she notes as they hug, and when she pulls back her mother steps inside the room and she follows. 

‘You look well, darling,’ her mother says, sinking into one of the chairs by the window. 

‘Thanks,’ she says, taking the other chair. ‘Are you all right, Mom?’

‘Fine, darling. I just have had a busy week at work and I haven't been sleeping well.’

She nods slowly. ‘Isn't Nicky feeding you?’

Mom says, too casually, ‘he and Archie are in Paris.’

‘So he doesn't know you haven't been eating,’ she says flatly. 

‘I'm eating, Caroline. I'm fine. Everything is okay.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asks skeptically. ‘Because Mom, you really don't look well.’

‘Thanks,’ Mom says, forcing a smile. ‘That's always good to hear.’

‘You know what I mean,’ she retorts, then sighs. ‘Mike texted me to tell me he wasn't going to make it. What's going on, Mom? Have you talked to him?’

‘Yes, we've talked,’ her mother said. ‘Texted. He's fine. He'll be back soon.’

‘I don't believe you,’ she says abruptly, and her mother lowers her gaze. ‘What happened? What did he say?’

‘Caroline, please,’ her mother whispers. ‘Everything's fine. All right?’

‘Mommy--’ she begins. 

‘Please, darling, not now. I'm sorry, I just have a terrible headache.’

‘I'm sorry,’ she says, contrite. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, thank you. I should get ready for lunch. Are you all right with waiting here?’

‘Sure,’ she says, and her mother smiles at her, coming to squeeze her shoulder first before she vanishes into the bedroom. 

 

Fifteen minutes later her mother comes out wearing a skirt and a nice blouse, with jewelry and makeup too. 

‘You look lovely, Mommy,’ she tells her. 

‘Thanks, darling. Ready to go?’

‘Yes,’ she says, putting her book back in her bag. They walk out of the door and down the restaurant, two blocks away. 

They have a private room at the restaurant, because they are a big group--Tucker and Oliver, their girlfriends, their girlfriends’ parents and Uncle James and Aunt Alice, then Eliza, Kip, Kip’s parents, and Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Teddy, and finally her grandparents and Peter and Miranda. Twenty-two people in all, she counts, and sticks close by her mother to support her. 

They greet her grandparents and Peter and Miranda. They look at her mother with concern and Miranda asks if she's all right. 

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I'd love some mineral water, though.’

‘I'll get it,’ Peter volunteers. ‘What would you like, Caroline?’

‘That's fine, thanks, Peter,’ she says, and he nods and moves away. 

‘Is Mike joining us later?’ Grandmother asks. 

‘He's out of town for work,’ her mother tells them, her answer a bit too ready. ‘He just couldn't make it.’

Her grandparents frown. 

Uncle Teddy comes over to greet them. ‘How's the concussion, Liz? Are you feeling better?’

‘Concussion?’ she asks her uncle, confused. 

‘It's fine, Teddy,’ Mom says, glaring. ‘As I told you when you asked this morning.’

‘When did you get a concussion, Liz?’ Miranda asks. 

‘Last weekend,’ Teddy replies for her. 

‘And it was extremely mild. I just bumped my head. It's fine.’

‘Mom--’

‘Really, everything is okay. It's just not a big deal, that's why I didn't mention it. I'm fine, as Teddy knows,’ her mother finishes waspishly. 

Peter appears at that moment. ‘Here you are,’ he says, handing them their glasses. He notices the tension and asks, ‘what happened?’

‘Liz had a concussion,’ Grandfather says. ‘This past weekend.’

‘Darling, are you all right?’ Peter asks. 

‘I'm fine,’ her mother says, her voice carefully calm and emotionless. ‘As I've said. And now, can we please change the subject?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Miranda says. ‘So, what work trip was so important that Mike had to go out of town and miss Caroline’s first parents’ weekend?’

‘I don't know,’ her mother replies, her voice still calm. ‘I know he's sorry to miss it, but it couldn't be helped.’

‘Grandfather,’ she says desperately, trying to change the subject, ‘did you buy the new sails for the Selkie yet?’

Her grandfather responds, but she notices her grandmother still looking at Mom, worried. 

 

They get separated at lunch--her grandparents somehow box her out and bookend Mom, with Miranda on her grandmother’s side and Peter on her grandfather’s. She sits next to Eliza and Uncle Teddy, but barely pays attention to the conversation because she is focused on her mother. She's clearly uncomfortable and she barely eats, choosing instead to play with her food. She drinks a lot of mineral water but no alcohol and she excuses herself once. Grandmother follows her and they both return silently about ten minutes later. 

After the endless lunch has finished her mother excuses herself to walk Sadie, and she tries to go too, but her grandparents say that they want to speak with her and see her room. Peter and Miranda go with her mother and she is left with her grandparents. 

‘Let’s go to the hotel,’ her grandfather suggests, and she nods, wanting to get this over with so that she can call Lucas. They leave the restaurant and don't talk until they reach her grandparents’ hotel room.

‘So, darling,’ Grandmother begins. ‘What is going on?’

‘I don't know,’ she admits. ‘Mom hasn't really told me anything?’

‘Well, what has she told you?’ she asks gently. 

She's torn. She wants to tell her grandparents, to have the know and help her figure out what's going on, but she also wants to respect her mother’s privacy.

‘Just that Mike has been out of town for a bit,’ she says, pleased that this is both the truth and not too invasive of her privacy. 

‘For how long?’ Grandfather asks. 

‘I don't know exactly how long,’ she hedges. 

‘How long do you know about?’ Grandmother asks. 

‘Almost two weeks,’ she finally admits, and both their mouths drop open. 

‘Two weeks?’ Grandfather says, recovering first. ‘Why? For what?’

‘Mom just said he needed time,’ she says, everything tumbling out. ‘That he's had a lot on his plate. And Nicky stayed with Mom for a week but I guess she lied and told him everything was okay because Mom told me he was in Paris with Archie now and I know Nicky wouldn't have left if he knew about this concussion, which she didn't tell me about either.’

Her grandmother rubs her temples as though staving off a headache. ‘And have you talked to your father?’

‘Kind of. He said he wasn't going to come this weekend.’

Her grandfather shakes his head slowly. ‘Does your mother know when he's coming back?’

‘She said soon.’

They sit in silence.

‘Thank you for telling us, Caroline,’ her grandmother says at last. ‘We love you very much. We will take care of everything, all right?’

She nods, wanting to believe them and, in fact, doing so. 

‘All right. Now, what's the next event on this agenda?’

‘The cocktail party,’ she says, and they nod. 

‘All right. We will see you then. We just need to take a little rest.’

‘All right.’

‘We love you,’ her grandfather says, coming over to hug her. Her grandmother hugs her next. 

‘I love you both too.’

They smile at her as she lets herself out of their room. She leans against the closed door and sighs, then digs her phone out of her pocket. She has a text from her mother. 

_I'll meet you at the cocktail party. I love you._

_Love you too_ , she writes back, and heads to her dorm. 

 

She's running late as she gets into the navy silk dress she wore last weekend. She'd been on the phone for an hour with Lucas, explaining the situation and that she thought it would be best if he didn't come up this weekend after all so that she could focus on her mother. He understood right away--that's one of the things she loves best about him--and she'd spent the rest of their call telling him everything that happened. He was reassuring and kind; hanging up, she'd felt better than she had all day.

She zips up the dress, then twists her hair into a chignon, puts in pearl earrings, and grabs her purse and a wrap as she heads out the door. 

 

The cocktail party is easier to manage than the lunch. For one thing, she’s able to introduce her mother to Annie’s parents, and away from her family, her mother relaxes and is easy--or easier, at least--with herself. Her grandparents, Miranda, and Peter, for some reason, have completely backed off discussing anything, and instead are normal, almost, with her mother, treating her with a bit more deference than usual, but nothing over-the-top. 

Her other family are at different events--each college within Yale has its own events--so there are very few people to contend with. She relaxes and sips her gin and tonic; her mother is still sticking to mineral water.

The cocktail party ends and her grandparents insist that the four of them have dinner together.

‘Miranda and Peter are heading back to the city, but I’d love to have my family together,’ Grandmother says. ‘I’m sure the restaurants will be crowded, so why don’t we order room service?’

‘Good idea,’ she says. ‘Mom, can I stay with you tonight?’

Her mother nods slowly. ‘Isn’t Lucas coming up, though?’

‘No,’ she explains, ‘I just wanted some time with you. So I’ll see him next weekend.’

Her mother’s expression softens and she hugs her quickly. ‘Of course, darling. I’d love that.’

‘Great,’ she says. ‘I’ll meet you back at the hotel, then. Let me just grab some things.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ her mother says quickly.

‘Perfect,’ her grandmother replies. ‘We’ll see you in about an hour then, hmm?’

‘All right,’ she agrees, and they part.

 

When they get to her room her mother sits down on the slipper chair in the corner and closes her eyes as she packs up some things for the weekend and changes out of her dress. Glancing over at her, she’s startled at how tired she looks, and how, in rest, her weight loss is more noticeable. She packs as quickly as she can.

‘I’m done, Mom,’ she says, and her mother opens her eyes and smiles.

‘All right, darling. Ready to go?’

‘I’m ready,’ she says, and, impulsively, she comes to give her mother a hug. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, sweetheart,’ her mother says. ‘Let’s go, hmm? I’d like to change before dinner.’

‘Sure,’ she says, picking up her bag. ‘Let’s go.’

 

She flops down on the bed and surreptitiously watches as her mother changes out of her black dress and into a pair of jeans and one of her favorite linen shirts. She’s in the bathroom, but the door didn’t close all the way, and she can see her reflection in the mirrored doors of the closet opposite. She can see how thin her mother has become and she’s really, really worried now.

‘Mom, can we talk?’ she asks when her mother emerges from the bathroom.

‘Of course,’ her mother says, sitting next to her on the bed. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘I’m really worried, Mom,’ she says softly. ‘Is everything okay?’

Her mother leans back against the pillows, closes her eyes, and says, ‘I don’t know, Caroline. I don’t want you to worry, though. Everything will be okay.’

‘You said you talked to Mike,’ she says, treading carefully. ‘When is he coming back?’

Mom keeps her eyes closed and it takes a long time for her to say, ‘I’m not sure, darling.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asks, her heart sinking.

‘I think he’ll be away for a while.’

‘How long?’ she presses.

Her mother covers her eyes with her hand and says, her voice cracking, ‘I don’t know, Caroline. I don’t know where he is.’

‘Mommy,’ she says, and her mother opens her eyes. 

‘I’m so sorry, Caroline,’ Mom says, her eyes filling with tears. ‘But I promise you, everything will be okay.’

‘How did you get a concussion?’ she asks, setting aside the issues with Mike for now.

‘I took Sadie on a long walk and I suppose I didn’t drink enough water,’ her mother says, ‘and I passed out in the lobby. Everything’s fine, though, darling. Tony brought me right to the hospital and I’m okay.’

‘Mom!’ she exclaims, because this is worse than she imagined. ‘And you didn’t tell Nicky?’

She shakes her head. ‘Archie had just come back, I didn’t want to intrude.’

‘It’s not an intrusion,’ she reminds her. ‘You’re his best friend.’

‘I know, darling, but they’d been apart for a while, and I was fine.’

‘I don’t believe you, Mom,’ she tells her bluntly. ‘You look like hell. You’ve lost a ton of weight.’

‘I just haven’t been hungry,’ she says. ‘But I eat, Caroline. I’m fine--and I promise you I’m not in denial.’

‘Well, I suppose you’d know,’ she admits. 

‘Yes,’ her mother says gently. ‘I don’t want you to worry. Everything is all right.’

‘Okay,’ she says, doubting it. ‘Mom, I’ve been reading your journals. I’ve almost finished the one you wrote when you were pregnant.’ She pauses, then says, ‘I’ve liked reading it. Getting to know you better.’

‘Good,’ her mother replies, tension in her shoulders easing. ‘Do you have any questions that you’d like me to answer?’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘No, not right now,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you were so excited that I was on the way.’

Her mother smiles, a faraway smile. ‘I was thrilled,’ she says softly, looking at her but not seeing her. ‘Oh, my darling, I was so excited. Those were some of the best months of my life, when I was pregnant with you.’

‘You wrote that you hoped you could be enough for me, because it was just going to be us,’ she begins. ‘And Mom--you were. And are.’

Her mother focuses on her. ‘I’m glad you feel that way, darling,’ she tells her, her voice suddenly very sad. ‘I’m sorry that… that things weren’t different.’

She leans forward and hugs her mother. ‘Don’t be,’ she tells her. ‘I’m very happy with our lives. I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ her mother replies, kissing her cheek. ‘Now, I think it’s time for dinner.’

 

Her grandparents’ suite is five doors down from her mother’s. They knock and the door is opened promptly by her grandfather.

‘Right on time,’ her grandfather says, greeting them with a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come in.’

They follow him into the suite and take the seats he indicates on the sofa. Her grandmother comes in after a moment, kisses them both, and hands them each a glass of wine.

‘Before we order dinner, I thought we could talk a bit,’ Grandmother says. She can feel Mom tense beside her when Grandmother focuses on her. ‘I spoke with Tony this afternoon, Liz. He said that you fainted in the lobby, that he took you to the hospital.’

Her mother says, tightly, ‘I’d just taken Sadie for a long walk, and it was hot. I was just dehydrated.’

‘Tony said that Mike had left you an envelope and when you opened it you fainted,’ Grandmother presses. ‘And that inside were his keys and his wedding ring.’

Her heart stops, for a moment, and she looks at her mother, whose face has blanched.

‘What happened, Lilibet?’ Grandmother asks, her voice soft.

Her mother opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out, and then, suddenly, she’s buried her head in her hands, sobbing.

She doesn’t know what to do. Her grandmother crosses the room and sits next to Mom on the sofa, wrapping her in her arms, and her mother turns to her and buries her face in her shoulder. 

‘It’s all right, darling,’ her grandmother says, rubbing Mom’s back, kissing her forehead.

‘He told Caroline that he didn’t want her,’ her mother weeps. ‘When we tried to get back together when she was seven. That he didn’t want children. And two weeks ago I asked him if he meant it, because he’s never told me that he didn’t mean it, and he was so angry at me, he was so upset, and when I woke up the next morning he was gone.’ Her mother begins to cry harder. ‘And Helen texted me a picture of Mike with someone else.’

Oh, God, she thinks, and catches her grandmother’s surprised glance over her mother’s head.

‘And he was just gone,’ her mother hiccups, ‘gone. And then last weekend--he texted me, he said that he wanted to talk, that he wanted me to meet him in the Village because he was downtown, so I went, and I waited for an hour, and he told me he was running late, then he texted me--’ her words are almost incoherent now, ‘--he texted me saying he was sorry, so I went home, and found his keys and his ring, and then I was in the hospital, but when I came back the apartment--he’d taken all his clothes, all the pictures of the two of us. And I don’t know where he is. And we haven’t talked. He hasn’t called me back. And I don’t know… I don’t know what will happen next.’

‘Oh, my darling,’ her grandmother says, and she feels strange, as though she’s invading their privacy. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

Her mother cries for a long, long time. She and her grandfather leave after a few minutes--they both are uncomfortable witnessing this profound and private grief--and go into the bedroom.

‘It’s my fault,’ she tells him, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her feet. ‘I told Mom to tell him I was mad at him because he said that. If I hadn’t--’

‘It’s not your fault, darling,’ her grandfather interrupts. ‘Nor is it your mother’s. He’s an adult. He should be able to handle things without running away and cheating on your mother.’

Oh right, she realizes. He cheated on her. Oh, God.

‘I’m sorry we’re ruining your first Parents’ Weekend, darling,’ he adds.

‘Please--it’s not you,’ she says. ‘It’s Mike.’ She sighs. ‘I am worried about Mom.’

‘We’ll take care of her,’ he assures her. ‘What we need you to do is focus on college, all right? We’ll take care of your mother.’

‘But Grandfather,’ she begins.

‘She’s my daughter,’ her grandfather says softly, reaching out to take her hand. ‘It’s our job.’

‘Okay,’ she says, giving in. ‘But I’ll come home every weekend.’

Her grandfather leans over and kisses her forehead. ‘Whenever you’d like. But it will be all right, I promise you.’

‘I hope so,’ she whispers, her heart aching. ‘I hope so.’


	23. Chapter 23

She makes her way onto the train and finds a window seat, putting her bag in the rack above the seat. She closes her eyes.

This has been a hellish week and this weekend promises to be worse. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to face her family and lie about Mike’s absence. It’s been hard enough with Chrissy and Teddy, who know something’s up. And she doesn’t want to ruin this first weekend for Caroline. The last thing she wants to do is start to cry in the middle of the cocktail party or any of the other events.

She isn’t coping well. She has to force herself to eat, but she’s losing weight anyway. When she gets home she writes in her journal and has a small dinner and then goes to sleep. She’s straightened up the apartment, removed the empty picture frames, and tried to pretend that everything is normal… but it’s not.

She’s heard from Katy, who called and left a message at home the day she was released from the hospital.

I’m so sorry, Liz, you hung up and I didn’t have your cell, I called the hospital and they said you were released. Please let me know if I can do anything.

Nicky’s been gone for a week--she told him he should go home and be with Archie, and then when he brought up this trip to Paris she told him that Mike was coming home and that she’d be fine. She lied convincingly enough, and honestly, she’s needed the time alone, time to mourn, time to think about what to do next. Even if she doesn’t know what to do next.

When she dropped Sadie off at Teddy and Chrissy’s this morning they had tried to persuade her, again, to drive up with them. She demurred, to their frustration, and headed down to Grand Central.

And now she’s on the train, with endless time to think, and she’s thinking now that it would have been a better idea to have gone with her cousins. She’s had far too much time on her own lately, and she’s not coping well, and she doesn’t know what to do next.

She hasn’t heard from Mike since that last text, despite her efforts to reach him. He hasn’t been at his office, and Katy doesn’t know where he is, and she’s feeling increasingly desperate.

He’s done this before. After she was--after, when he cheated on her the first time… he’d blown up at her one morning. It was a week after Phil was shot and he’d slammed his way out of the apartment and then slept with Sherri West. Of course she didn’t know that at the time, and she didn’t figure it out until years later that that was the night, but she remembers it vividly and painfully. He’d come home, finally, at three in the morning, and she’d wept, so relieved that he hadn’t left her.

Well, he’s left her now and she hopes, prays, he’ll come back… but somehow she doubts he’ll come back now. He’s taken everything, and all their photographs… she has the ones in her albums, thank God. The apartment feels so empty without him. She misses him and she needs him and God, she can’t believe she caused this by doubting him, by sharing her doubts, by not just letting things be. They were so close.

She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep his absence from her family, from her daughter. She’ll have to tell her eventually, but she doesn’t want to cause her any more pain, she doesn’t want to distract her from her first semester of college, and she doesn’t want her to worry. She doesn’t want her to blame herself, which she will do, because she’s always done that. And it’s not her fault.

She reaches New Haven, heads over to the hotel, and checks in. She finds her room and texts her daughter, asking if she’d like to come over before they meet the rest of the family for lunch. She agrees and she waits for her daughter.

 

Her daughter looks wonderful. She can’t believe how grown-up she is--sometimes she wishes that she could do the past nineteen years all over again and do things better, this time. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to go forward now, alone, and if she’d just divorced Ben when she found out she was pregnant… 

After her daughter arrives and she changes for the lunch, they head to the restaurant. She’s overwhelmed by the twenty-two people there, including themselves, and she takes a deep breath as her parents and godparents join them. She manages well enough, she thinks, until Teddy comes by and asks about her concussion. She glares at him--she made it quite clear to him and to Chrissy that she didn’t want that mentioned--and she knows that this is only the beginning of the slippery slope of everything being discovered.

Her parents and godparents have been friends so long that they can communicate silently when they need to. Somehow they manage to separate her from her daughter and guide her to the table, settling her between her parents, with her godparents flanking them. Caroline sits across the table from her and she offers her a small smile and asks the waiter for a mineral water.

‘What is Mike working on right now?’ Mummy asks her.

She takes a sip of her water. ‘I’m not sure--we don’t usually discuss our work.’

‘And he couldn’t take any time off for Caroline’s first Parents’ Weekend?’

‘We were just up a few weeks ago; he’s sorry to miss it.’

The whole lunch is like this. She pushes her salad around her plate; her mother notices and asks if she’s hungry.

‘I had a snack on the train,’ she lies, and takes a bite.

When she excuses herself to use the bathroom her mother follows her and tries to ask, again, about Mike, about her concussion, about what’s wrong. She tells her that everything is fine, but her mother clearly doesn’t believe her.

Lunch lasts a lifetime and she’s exhausted at the end of it. She just wants to go back to her room and fall asleep for hours, but Peter and Miranda suggest they all go for a walk with Sadie, and thankfully they don’t talk about anything of import. When their walk is over, she does get the chance to lie down, finally, finally.

 

The cocktail party is better, but honestly, everything is passing in a blur. She’s relieved, at least, that Teddy and Chrissy and James and Alice are at different parties, because each college has their own events this weekend. Caroline is very solicitous and stays by her side, introducing her to her friend Annie and Annie’s parents. She likes them, and likes especially that they carry the conversation.

Her parents and godparents are solicitous too, but not overly so, and she’s grateful that they’ve stepped back. She doesn’t want to ruin Caroline’s weekend.

When the party comes to an end, Caroline announces that she wants to stay with her this weekend and selfishly, she’s glad. She misses her daughter so much--even after four years of boarding school she hasn’t grown used to it. She’s glad she’ll have her for a few days, just the two of them.

They go back to Caroline’s room and collect her things for the weekend, then go back to the hotel. She changes into jeans and a linen shirt--Caroline changed in her room--and then joins her daughter in the bedroom.

‘Mom, can we talk?’ Caroline asks.

‘Of course,’ she replies, sitting next to her on the bed. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘I’m really worried, Mom,’ she says softly. ‘Is everything okay?’

She leans back against the pillows, closes her eyes, and says, ‘I don’t know, Caroline. I don’t want you to worry, though. Everything will be okay.’

‘You said you talked to Mike,’ Caroline begins tentatively. ‘When is he coming back?’

She keeps her eyes closed and it takes a long time for her to say, ‘I’m not sure, darling.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think he’ll be away for a while.’

‘How long?’ she presses.

She covers her eyes with her hand, trying to fight back tears and says, ‘I don’t know, Caroline. I don’t know where he is.’

‘Mommy,’ her daughter says, and she opens her eyes, which she can feel filling with tears.

‘I’m so sorry, Caroline,’ she tells her. ‘But I promise you, everything will be okay.’

‘How did you get a concussion?’ Caroline asks, deliberately changing the subject.

She flushes. ‘I took Sadie on a long walk and I suppose I didn’t drink enough water, and I passed out in the lobby. Everything’s fine, though, darling. Tony brought me right to the hospital and I’m okay.’

‘Mom!’ Caroline exclaims. ‘And you didn’t tell Nicky?’

She shakes her head. ‘Archie had just come back, I didn’t want to intrude.’

‘It’s not an intrusion. You’re his best friend.’

‘I know, darling, but they’d been apart for a while, and I was fine.’

‘I don’t believe you, Mom,’ she tells her bluntly. ‘You look like hell. You’ve lost a ton of weight.’

‘I just haven’t been hungry,’ she says. ‘But I eat, Caroline. I’m fine--and I promise you I’m not in denial.’

‘Well, I suppose you’d know,’ Caroline says reluctantly. 

‘Yes. I don’t want you to worry. Everything is all right.’

‘Okay,’ she says, and she hears the doubt in her voice. ‘Mom, I’ve been reading your journals. I’ve almost finished the one you wrote when I was pregnant.’ She pauses, then says, ‘I’ve liked reading it. Getting to know you better.’

‘Good,’ she replies, relieved. ‘Do you have any questions that you’d like me to answer?’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘No, not right now. I’m glad you were so excited that I was on the way.’

She smiles, thinking about that time. ‘I was thrilled,’ she says softly. ‘Oh, my darling, I was so excited. Those were some of the best months of my life, when I was pregnant with you.’

‘You wrote that you hoped you could be enough for me, because it was just going to be us. And Mom--you were. And are.’

She focuses on Caroline. ‘I’m glad you feel that way, darling,’ she tells her, a wave of sadness swamping her. ‘I’m sorry that… that things weren’t different.’

Caroline leans forward and hugs her. ‘Don’t be,’ she tells her. ‘I’m very happy with our lives. I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ she replies, grateful, so grateful she hasn’t lost her. ‘Now, I think it’s time for dinner.’

 

Her parents are just down the hall. They knock and the door is opened promptly by her father, who smiles at them.

‘Right on time,’ her father says, greeting them with a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come in.’

They follow him into the suite and take the seats he indicates on the sofa. Her mother comes in after a moment, kisses them both, and hands them each a glass of wine.

‘Before we order dinner, I thought we could talk a bit,’ Mummy says, looking at her, and she knows that something is coming. ‘I spoke with Tony this afternoon, Liz. He said that you fainted in the lobby, that he took you to the hospital.’

She closes her eyes briefly and says, ‘I’d just taken Sadie for a long walk, and it was hot. I was just dehydrated.’

‘Tony said that Mike had left you an envelope and when you opened it you fainted,’ Mummy presses. ‘And that inside were his keys and his wedding ring.’

Her heart stops. She didn’t realize they knew.

‘What happened, Lilibet?’ her mother asks, her voice soft.

She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out, and then, suddenly, she’s buried her head in her hands, sobbing, sobbing, blurting out the whole story, unable to keep it in any longer.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ her mother whispers, holding her tight, holding her close. She can’t stop crying. She doesn’t remember ever crying like this before, never, and God, everything feels like it’s collapsing around her. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to go on. She doesn’t know what to do.

When she finally stops crying and pulls back she sees that her mother has cried too. 

‘I’m so sorry, my darling,’ her mother says, stroking her hair. ‘Everything will be all right, I promise.’

‘I can’t see how it can ever be all right again.’

Her mother sighs and kisses her forehead. ‘We’ll take care of it. Now, darling, we must get some food in you.’

She nods, letting her mother take charge, and excuses herself to wash her face in her room. When she returns, Caroline hugs her tight, her father gives her a kiss, and they order dinner. She accepts a glass of wine--the first drink she’s had in a week, but she needs it--and leans back against the sofa.

‘We don’t have to talk about it any more, darling, but do you know what you want to do after this? We are here for you, whatever you want to do,’ her father says.

‘I don't know what I should do next,’ she admits, looking into her wineglass. ‘I need to talk to him.’

‘We’ll make that happen, then,’ her father says, and leans forward to squeeze her hand. 

 

She feels, strangely, less desperate now that Caroline and her parents know. Her daughter is taking it well, better than she is. But then Caroline is used to having an absent father. And she is used to having an absent husband, so really, she should not be taking this so badly.

But at least Ben was always clear in his motivations. She has no idea what’s prompted Mike into what he’s done. Well, she has some idea--she doubted him, she aired those doubts, and God… it hurts to have him away from her. To know she hurt him.

She doesn't know what to do. She needs to talk to him, but she knows he won't let himself be found until he's ready to talk. That could take weeks, months, years. When Caroline turned four and he didn't come to meet them as they'd planned, he didn't call her back. He never did, and if he and Ben hadn't worked together, if she hadn't been in court that day and Ben hadn't taken her down to the precinct when Caroline was six, she doesn't know when they ever would have found each other again. Because that had taken so long, well over a year… how long will it be this time?

The thought of losing him, of never being with him again, is so painful she can't even think of it. 

What is he doing right now? Where is he? Is he thinking about her, missing her, wanting her? Or is he with someone else?

She closes her eyes and listens to her daughter’s steady breathing, trying to match her breaths to Caroline’s. it has to be all right, she tells herself. It will be all right. 

 

She’s writing a report on the sofa in her hotel room and someone knocks at the door. She saves the document, stands up, and opens the door.

It’s Mike.

‘Mike!’ she exclaims, trying and failing not to burst into tears. ‘Oh, Mike, I thought you’d left--’

‘What d’you mean?’ his brow furrowing in confusion. ‘I just went to walk Marjorie. I’ve been gone ten minutes, Lizzie.’

It’s her turn to be confused. She looks down at Marjorie, Caroline’s late cocker spaniel, and then back up at Mike, who says, ‘are you all right?’

‘What’s going on?’ she asks him.

Someone touches her shoulder and she turns around--no one is there.

‘Mom,’ she hears Caroline say. ‘Mom, wake up.’

She opens her eyes and sees her daughter looking down at her, her hair rumpled, eyes sleepy. The room is mostly dark but for Caroline’s bedside lamp.

‘Are you all right?’ her daughter asks, yawning.

‘Just a nightmare,’ she says, rubbing her eyes. ‘Sorry, darling. I’m all right. Let’s go back to sleep.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Fine,’ she says, finding tears, wiping them away quickly. ‘Let’s go back to sleep.’

Her daughter nods and lies down again, closing her eyes. ‘Can you sing to me, Mom?’ she whispers.

‘Mmhmm,’ she agrees, unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. She swallows. ‘What would you like to hear?’

‘Maybe that Judy Collins song,’ Caroline says, yawning again. ‘The one you used to sing, d’you remember?’

‘I remember,’ she whispers back, looking at her daughter, her beautiful girl, remembering all the times she’s held her and sung to her. Her daughter. Her beautiful daughter.

‘Mommy?’ Caroline asks, opening her eyes. She smiles down at her and reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

‘Close your eyes, darling,’ she whispers, and Caroline does. She starts to sing, softly. ‘What I’ll give you since you’ve asked is all my time together. Take the rugged sunny days, the warm and rocky weather. Take the roads that I have walked along looking for tomorrow's time… peace of mind.’ Caroline is smiling softly, drifting into sleep. ‘As my life spills into yours, changing with the hours… filling up the world with time, turning time to flowers…’

God, she’s sung this song so many times throughout her daughter’s life. She misses the early days of Caroline’s life, when she was a baby, when she was a child, when she could hold her tight and kiss the top of her head and have her heavy, sleepy weight in her arms. Oh, God, she misses those days, when her life could revolve around her daughter’s schedule and she could just absorb herself in her child. She loves Mike, of course she does, and with all of her heart, but Caroline--Caroline has been her entire world since her conception, and she is glad to have this time with her now.

‘I can show you all the songs that I never sang to someone before…’ she sings, her voice barely a whisper, and looks again at her daughter. She is asleep now, her breathing slow and even, and she touches her cheek lightly before pulling the covers over her, leaning over to turn off the light.

She lies back down and closes her eyes. She takes slow, deep breaths. She clears her mind. She feels sleep wash over her like a wave and surrenders gratefully.

 

She sleeps in late. The latter half of the night has been dreamless, thank goodness, and when she wakes she finds Caroline still sleeping beside her. The sun is streaming through the gauzy curtains and she stretches, then looks at the clock. It’s 9:17 and she yawns. She could sleep another few hours, but they’re meant to meet the family for brunch at eleven, and she’ll need to shower, as will Caroline.

She’ll shower first, then wake up her daughter. She slips out of bed and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She undresses and looks at herself in the mirror. She’s too thin, but besides that she does think she still looks good, especially for fifty-six. She’s still slender, and relatively unmarked, the scar from her caesarean is barely visible after all this time. She traces it gently, remembering the hours of labor, the anesthesiologist's struggle to properly administer the epidural, Barbara telling her they’d have to do an emergency c-section because Caroline’s heartrate was dropping. But everything was fine. She was perfect. She remembers Barbara handing Caroline to her, the memory so clear she can almost feel the weight of her daughter against her chest, her soft skin, her damp hair. She remembers her daughter opening her eyes to look at her and seeing her own grey eyes in her daughter’s face, seeing Mike’s eyebrows, and her heart swelled with love for this child, their child.

Ben wasn’t there, she remembers, stepping into the shower. He was in Cambridge lecturing at Harvard Law for Mac Geller. But Nicky was there. He had walked her to the hospital and waited in the waiting room with her parents, who had been staying at their club while waiting for Caroline’s birth. They wanted to meet her right away, and they did, all of them together, meeting her beautiful daughter for the first time.

She washes her hair and thinks back further, to finding out she was pregnant, looking down in shock and joy at the two blue lines on the pregnancy test. Her daughter was still the greatest gift of her life. She always will be.

She turns off the shower and steps out, grabbing a towel. She’s glad that she’s keeping her hair short again, as she doesn’t have to fuss about with the hairdryer in the morning. She towel-dries her hair, then takes the robe from the back of the door. She emerges from the bathroom and sees her daughter on her laptop, still in bed. Caroline looks up guiltily when she steps into the bedroom.

‘Good morning,’ she says, coming over to the bed. ‘What are you doing?’

Caroline says, ‘Nothing,’ but doesn’t close her laptop and doesn’t angle it away when she sits next to her on the bed. She looks at the screen. It's Mike’s iCloud page and she looks questioningly at her daughter. 

‘For a security consultant, his cyber security is seriously lacking,’ her daughter says. ‘His password is still the one I set up for him, LizzieCaroline.’

Her heart squeezes tight for a moment. ‘And why are you hacking into Mike’s iCloud account?’

Caroline guides the cursor over to the app labeled “Find my iPhone” and clicks it. ‘Because I want to know where he is.’

She wants to know where he is too but feels obliged to protest, ‘you really feel comfortable invading his privacy?’

Caroline shrugs, eyes fixed on the screen as the map begins to load. ‘If I respected him, I would. But right now I don't.’

She wants to protest but the map loads and pinpoints Mike’s locations. She frowns. 

‘Are you sure this isn't your iCloud account?’

‘It's definitely Mike’s.’

They look at the blue dot, fixed on the Green. 

‘Why don't you take Sadie for a walk, Mom?’ her daughter suggests. ‘I'm sure she's dying to go out.’

‘Okay,’ she says slowly, heart pounding. She goes through the motions of getting dressed as though she's in a dream and then, when she's done, clips Sadie’s leash on. 

‘If you're not back by 10:45, I'll tell everyone you're running late,’ Caroline says. ‘I'm going to take a shower.’

‘I love you,’ she tells her daughter.

‘I love you too, Mom. He's in the northeast corner.’

She nods. 

Caroline hesitates, then says, ‘I’m still mad at him. And I will be for a long time. But you can pretend I’m not, if it will help. And I’d like him to be here.’

‘Thank you,’ she says softly. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

‘Good luck,’ her daughter says.

‘Thank you,’ she says again, and with one last smile she walks out the door to track down her husband.


	24. Chapter 24

She wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of her mother sobbing.

She hasn’t heard her mother cry much before, not like this, and it breaks her heart. She leans over and turns on her bedside light, intending to comfort her, but Mom is asleep. She touches her shoulder and starts calling her, and finally her mother wakes up, opening her eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ she asks her, yawning.

‘Just a nightmare,’ her mother says sleepily, brushing her tears away. ‘Sorry, darling. I’m all right. Let’s go back to sleep.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Fine,’ her mother says again, softly. ‘Let’s go back to sleep.’

She nods, lying back down again. ‘Can you sing to me, Mom?’ she whispers.

‘Mmhmm. What would you like to hear?’ she whispers back.

‘Maybe that Judy Collins song,’ she yawns. ‘The one you used to sing, d’you remember?’

‘I remember,’ her mother says softly.

She’s so tired and she feels like a child again, for some reason, warm and loved and at the center of the world. Her mother falls silent and she opens her eyes. Mom smiles down at her and reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

‘Close your eyes, darling,’ she whispers, and she does. Mom starts to sing, softly. ‘What I’ll give you since you’ve asked is all my time together. Take the rugged sunny days, the warm and rocky weather. Take the roads that I have walked looking for tomorrow's time… peace of mind.’ She’s heard this song thousands of times, she thinks sleepily, remembering being held by her mother when she was little, her head resting on her shoulder, feeling sleepy as she does now. Her mother strokes her hair and she smiles to herself as she continues sing, ‘As my life spills into yours, changing with the hours… Filling up the world with time, turning time to flowers…’

The last thing remembers before she falls asleep is her mother’s voice, soft and soothing, singing, ‘This is what I give, this is what I ask you for…’

 

She wakes up late, when Sadie jumps on the bed and burrows her face against her neck. Her mother is in the shower, she notes, hearing the water, and she climbs out of bed quickly, grabbing her laptop. She wants to check something.

She opens her laptop and goes to the iCloud website. She remembers helping Mike set up his Apple account, so maybe… 

She types in his email address, mlogan@gmail.com, and then the password she’d set at the time, LizzieCaroline. She’s signed in immediately, but doesn’t have a chance to do anything else as her mother emerges, wearing a robe, towel-drying her hair.

‘Good morning,’ she says, coming over to the bed. ‘What are you doing?’

She says, ‘Nothing,’ but doesn’t close her laptop and doesn’t angle it away when she sits next to her on the bed. Her mother looks at her.

‘For a security consultant, his cyber security is seriously lacking,’ she says, trying and failing to keep the snark to a minimum. ‘His password is still the one I set up for him, LizzieCaroline.’

‘And why are you hacking into Mike’s iCloud account?’

She clicks on the “Find My iPhone” button. ‘Because I want to know where he is.’

Her mother protests weakly, ‘you really feel comfortable invading his privacy?’

She shrugs, watching the map load, and says, ‘If I respected him, I would. But right now I don't.’

She frowns at the screen. This can’t be right.

‘Are you sure this isn't your iCloud account?’ Mom asks.

‘It's definitely Mike’s,’ she replies, checking quickly to be sure.

They look at the blue dot, fixed on the Green. 

‘Why don't you take Sadie for a walk, Mom?’ she suggests, knowing how much her mother wants to see him, to talk to him. ‘I'm sure she's dying to go out.’

‘Okay,’ her mother replies slowly. She watches her mother get dressed and clip Sadie’s leash on. 

‘If you're not back by 10:45, I'll tell everyone you're running late,’ she says. ‘I'm going to take a shower.’

‘I love you,’ Mom says.

‘I love you too, Mom. He's in the northeast corner.’

She nods. 

She hesitates, then says, ‘I’m still mad at him. And I will be for a long time. But you can pretend I’m not, if it will help. And I’d like him to be here.’ She doesn’t want her mother to be sad any more. That may be a childish wish, but it is her wish.

‘Thank you,’ she says softly. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

‘Good luck,’ she tells her.

‘Thank you,’ she says again, and they exchange one last smile before Mom and Sadie leave.

She closes her laptop, gets out of bed and showers. She dresses in the soft pink dress she packed and then checks the time. She’ll leave in fifteen minutes, she decides, and turns on the television, mindlessly watching the news. The fifteen minutes pass quickly and just as she turns off the television her mother comes back with Sadie.

‘How did it go?’ she asks her mother, surprised to see her. She’d expected them to resolve everything, if she was honest with herself.

‘I’m going to change quickly,’ her mother says, her voice wooden. ‘Can you please feed Sadie? I’ll be ready in five minutes.’

‘Mom--’

‘Later, Caroline,’ her mother says, walking to the closet. ‘We’ll talk later.’

Her mother disappears into the bathroom and she looks at Sadie, who looks back at her, head tilted to the side.

‘What happened?’ she asks her dog, who smiles. ‘All right,’ she sighs, and goes to get her food.

 

Mom emerges four and a half minutes later, dressed in a dark blue-and-white patterned wrap dress she’s always loved. She steps into her navy ballet flats and turns to look at her. 

‘Let’s go.’

‘What happened, Mom?’ she asks, picking up her purse and following her mother out of the room with a final cuddle for Sadie.

Mom doesn’t look at her as they make their way down the hall to the elevators. ‘Mike wants a separation.’

‘What?’ she exclaims, startled, stopping. Her mother keeps walking and she hurries to catch up. ‘Mom, why?’

‘I don’t know,’ she says blankly. ‘He wants to talk next week. He’s found a new apartment and intends to collect the rest of his things from home soon.’

‘Oh, Mommy--’ she doesn’t know what else to say. They reach the elevator, her mother presses the down button, and she rests her hand on her arm.

‘It will be all right,’ she tells her, though her tone is unconvincing. ‘You and I can discuss this later, all right, darling?’

‘All right,’ she agrees.

The elevator arrives and they step inside. Her mother stares straight ahead.

 

Mom makes an enormous effort to behave as though nothing has happened. She smiles and laughs and engages in conversation with everyone, even the boyfriend and girlfriends of her cousins, and she knows that all the while her heart is breaking. Her heart is, too. She can’t believe her father--her father--is doing this to them. And now, even without finishing her mother’s journals, she knows that the choices she made were really, truly, the only ones she could. Because if Mike had always been there… well, having him walk out of her when she was a child and needed him is way worse than what he’s doing now. At least she’s out of the house, occupied with other things. But if she’d been young, a child… she would have been irreparably damaged, because Mike was different than Ben, and even then her mother stayed with Ben until she was old enough to understand why they separated and divorced.

She sits across the table from Mom again and smiles at her whenever her mother looks at her. She’s lucky to have such an amazing mother. She is so lucky.

 

After lunch, some of her professors are offering to lecture for the parents. She wanted to ask her mother if they could go to Dr. Skoda’s lecture--she’s interested in that match-up, professionally--but after everything her mother’s been through these past few weeks she knows it’s not a good idea. Instead she suggests they go to her French professor’s class and her mother agrees.

Mme. Durand is a delight. She conducts the entire class in French, and most of the parents assume a blank look when she directs something to them. Not her mother, she’s proud to say, who speaks French almost like a native.

After class, Mme. Durand asks them to stay behind, and she and her mother have a quick conversation about Paris. Mme. Durand turns to her and says, ‘You should speak to your mother only in French. She has a wonderful ear for the language.’

‘Thank you, Madame,’ her mother says, and she echoes her thanks before they leave.

She looks at her mother as they wander out of the building. There’s a football game this afternoon but neither she nor her mother particularly care for football. They only have tickets because Mike loves football.

‘I’m starving,’ she lies. ‘Let’s just be really decadent again and order tons of room service.’

Her mother looks at her with understanding. ‘Darling, I appreciate you wanting to take care of me, but really, I’m fine.’

‘I’m just worried, Mom,’ she admits. ‘You love Mike so much, and a separation…’

Her mother sighs and covers her eyes with her hand. When she speaks again, her voice is thick with suppressed tears. ‘He’s done this before,’ she says. ‘Many times. And--and I hate it. But he’ll come back. It’ll be all right.’

‘How long will it take?’

Her mother lowers her hand. ‘I don’t know. It feels different this time.’ She doesn’t know what to say and her mother summons up a smile. ‘It’ll be all right, Caroline.’

‘Isn’t that the first stage of grief, though?’ she asks impulsively. ‘Denial?’

Her mother closes her eyes again. ‘It will be fine.’


	25. Chapter 25

A shadow falls over him and he looks up to see his wife. He’s been waiting for her, even though he didn’t text her that he was here. But he needed to talk to her, and he figured she’d find him here if he just waited long enough.

‘Can I sit down?’ she asks as Sadie stands at her side.

‘It’s a free country,’ he says, and something in her eyes shutters closed at his words. She sits down on the opposite end of the bench, leaving a large gap between them.

‘Where have you been?’ she asks him, her voice calm and oddly impersonal. Her doctor voice, he remembers, and that pisses him off for some reason.

‘Around,’ he says, staring straight ahead.

‘When will you come home?’ she asks, and the distance in her voice vanishes at her question, giving way to the deep pain lying just beneath the surface. He can’t deal with this. He can’t live with this, knowing that he hurt her, that he hurt her so much. He’s never been able to deal with the pain his impulsive actions caused.

He doesn’t answer her and they sit for several long minutes in silence before he says, slowly, ‘Do you remember how happy we were on our honeymoon? Just the two of us alone.’

‘Yes,’ she says softly. ‘It was one of the happiest times of my life.’

‘I can't make you happy any more,’ he admits. ‘I just can't, Liz. And I don't want to hurt you--’

‘You do make me happy,’ she interrupts. ‘Every day.’

He looks at her, really looks at her, for the first time today, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, the way her clothes are hanging off of her, the sadness in her eyes. ‘Not anymore.’

‘I'm unhappy because you aren't here,’ Liz says, catching his glance. ‘Not because--we can move past that, Mike.’

‘The last time this happened you kicked me to the curb,’ he reminds her.

‘And it's the decision I regret the most in my life. If that hadn't happened, if we hadn't broken up then, nothing else would have happened. We could always have been a family.’ She pauses and looks at him. ‘I won't make that mistake again.’

‘I want a separation,’ he says, looking away, his heart tightening with pain. ‘We can discuss the details next week, but I've already found an apartment.’ He doesn't look at her but he can feel her shock.

‘Mike--’

‘Text me with what time works best for you. I'll meet you at your office. We can figure out a time for me to get the rest of my things.’

‘No, Mike, please, no--’

He stands up. ‘It's for the best.’

‘Mike,’ she says, but he doesn't look at her, just shakes his head and walks away.

 

In his car later, driving back down to the city, he thinks, _this was supposed to make me feel better. Because I wouldn't be hurting her any more. So she could have a life and be happy. Somehow I think I fucked up worse._

He drives on autopilot back to his new place, a small one bedroom in Hudson Yards. It's the absolute only place in the city he could think of that her family would never go to. Even Hell’s Kitchen was out because Chrissy had some Junior League project going on there.

His apartment is in a brand-new high rise, on the sixteenth floor. He's never lived in such a new building before, and never so high up either. The apartment itself is impersonal and achingly modern, but has large windows at least, and it’s furnished. He hates it, but it was the first one he could find, and it’s not too expensive because there’s nothing here yet, just construction. The only concession he’s made to a possible reconciliation is a month-to-month lease.

He doesn't know what to do next. He'd thought that after nine years of marriage and ten and a half years back together they'd be all right and he wouldn't have to worry about this any longer. But then the first time something upsets him off he goes again.

He thought he'd become a better person.

And now he knows he's not. He's pretty sure Caroline won't want to see him again after this, because he figures that Liz has told her what happened. Or something, at least. But he wants to be in her life. And if he and Liz somehow miraculously move past this, he doesn't know how he'll be able to be around Caroline, knowing that he let them down. He hasn't just lost her now, he's lost her future too, when she gets married, when she has children… their grandchildren.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He sighs. It's Liz’s birthday on Thursday and he, Teddy, and Chrissy have been planning a surprise party for her on Friday. He and Caroline were going to take her out to dinner at that French place she liked, Le Charlot, which they've rented out for the night. And then her friends and family would be waiting for her. He'd been planning to cook dinner for her on Thursday so that they could have a private celebration. That's not gonna happen now.

She was the hardest person to buy a present for. She had everything she needed, and pretty much everything she wanted, so each year became more and more difficult. This year, though, he thought he'd hit it out of the park. Katie Gorton, Jamie Ross’s daughter, went to art school and was a really good portraitist. They'd gone to a small gallery show she had some drawings in earlier in the year and he'd contacted Jamie after it, asking if Katie could do a portrait of Liz and Caroline for him. He'd taken a picture of the two of them at Southerly the first Christmas they were back together. Liz was in an armchair by the fire and Caroline was perched on the arm of the chair, her hand resting on her mother's shoulder. They'd both been smiling slightly and looking at Isobel, and he'd taken a picture of them. It was probably his favorite picture of them.

Katie did a great job with the portrait and it's being framed now. He was supposed to pick it up on Monday, but how can he give it to her now? He guesses he’ll stop by the framers, stick the card he got for her in the package, and have them deliver it to her. He doesn't want to see it again.

He's gonna have to get a new card, though. The one he'd bought a few weeks ago says “to my beautiful wife” on the front and inside he'd written, “you make every day so perfect. I'm so lucky. Happy birthday, I love you.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab a beer. He'll order takeout again because there's nothing in the fridge. He sighs. He never wanted to go back to this sort of life, but here he is again. Alone, with a fridge full of beer and a stack of takeout menus on the counter. Christ.

 

He heads over to the frame store on the earlier side. It's between the apartment and her office and he doesn't want to run into her, so he makes sure to go when she's in the middle of her appointments. He has to wait in line and he when finally is helped, they produce the framed portrait. It's perfect, so perfect he takes his breath away, and he stupidly feels choked up, looking at it.

‘Thanks, it looks great,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Can you deliver it? And do you have a card I could use to write a note?’

‘Of course, sir,’ the assistant says, producing a note and pen for him before she brings the portrait back to wrap it.

He thinks for a minute, then writes,

_Liz,_

_Happy birthday. I had Katie Gorton do this portrait for you. I hope you like it._

_Mike_

He hands the note back and the assistant tucks it into the wrapping.

‘When would you like it delivered?’

‘Uh, Thursday,’ he says. ‘It's a birthday present.’

‘All right, I'll make a note. Could you please fill out this delivery form?’

He nods and does so, then hands it back just as someone says, ‘Mike?’

He turns to see Chrissy. _Shit_ , he thinks.

‘I thought you were out of town,’ she says, frowning. ‘I've been trying to get in touch with you about Liz’s party.’

He runs a hand over his eyes. ‘I won't be able to make it.’

‘What's going on?’ she asks him. ‘I can't believe you missed Caroline’s parents’ weekend, and Liz looks awful, I don't think her concussion is getting better--’

‘Her concussion?’ he asks, startled.

Chrissy frowns again. ‘She hit her head last weekend and she was in the hospital overnight. She didn't tell us until the next day, and she said she'd called you and you were coming home soon from a work trip.’

‘Look, Chrissy--I don't want to talk about this here.’

‘Fine. Finish up and we’ll get coffee and talk.’

He wants to protest but he can't. He nods instead and pays, then follows Chrissy out the door.

 

They head to Sant Ambroeus. As Chrissy opens the door he wants to protest--he used to meet Liz and Caroline here when Caroline was little--but he doesn't have a chance to do so. They are seated at a table in the back and they order coffee.

‘So, what's going on?’ she asks him.

He doesn't know what to say. ‘I'm not gonna make it to Liz’s party.’

‘Why?’

‘Have you talked to Liz?’

‘I told you what she said. That you were out of town.’

‘And that's all she said?’

‘Yes. What's going on?’ she asks again.

Their coffee arrives. He rips open a packet of sugar and dumps it in, while Chrissy pours cream into hers.

‘What's going on?’ she asks for the third time.

‘We’re separatin’,’ he tells her.

‘What?’ she asks, incredulous. ‘You’re _separating_?’

‘It’s just not workin’ out,’ he says, taking a sip of coffee. ‘So it’s not a good idea for me to come to the party.’

‘So you’re abandoning your wife and daughter because it’s not “working out,”’ Chrissy says flatly. She catches his surprised glance and says, ‘yes, Liz told me that you are Caroline’s father.’

‘Well, Caroline doesn’t want anything to do with me,’ he says defensively. ‘She told Liz to tell me she’s angry with me for not bein’ there.’

‘She’s a teenager, Mike. She’s going to be mad at both of you for things a lot less justified than this. You two have had it lucky. Even Eliza goes into sulks for no reason.’ She takes a sip of coffee, then continues, ‘so your daughter’s being a typical teenager for the first time and what, you throw in the towel on your marriage?’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘So tell me, then, what is it like?’ she says, talking to him like he’s a child, humoring him.

‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he tells her. ‘It’s between me and Liz.’

‘So, that’s it? You’re just going to step out of their lives as though you were never a part of it? Is that what was going on this weekend? You just--left them on their own, because you’re upset that your daughter is angry that you and Liz lied to her for her entire life? Because you didn’t make an effort to be a part of their lives? And now you’re doing it again, and you just won’t be there for any of Caroline’s milestones, like her debutante ball this winter!’ she stops and takes a deep breath. ‘I can’t believe you. I thought you were a better person than that.’

He’s suddenly, completely furious at her. How dare pronounce these judgements like she’s God, like she knows best? She doesn’t know anything.

‘I can’t believe you think, that of all the things to mention, that her _debutante ball_ is the thing you’re most concerned about. Who the fuck cares? It’s a stupid, pointless thing that no one gives a shit about any more except you all. It’s a stupid fucking cattle show. You don’t live in the real world. And if this is such a goddamn big deal to you then Teddy can walk her in, or Stone. I don’t care.’

‘That’s not how it works, as you should know,’ she tells him, her voice tight and furious.

‘And how should I know that, Chrissy? I’m just an ex-cop from the Lower East Side, remember? My dad beat up my mother and my mother beat me up, and they were both drunks, and that’s it. You know what they taught me? That in the end, even the people who are supposed to love you let you down.’ He stands up, his movements controlled and precise, pulling out a twenty from his wallet and placing it down on the table. ‘I’m done, okay? You go back to your stupid little twenty-block world and go shopping or to get a manicure or whatever the hell you were on your way to do when you saw me and leave me the fuck alone. I’m done with all of you. You make me sick.’

He leaves without looking back and she doesn’t try to stop him.

 

He’s glad he didn’t drive--right now he’d run someone off the road. He walks instead, heading over to the Park, walking all the way up from the Met to Harlem Meer, then out of the Park over to Riverside Park, then down the West Side. The long walk does very little to cool his anger and honestly, he just wants to go back to the frame shop and tell them not to deliver Liz’s present after all. She doesn’t deserve it, not after keeping Caroline from him all these years. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to be a part of her life but every time, every time, she kept him away.

The little voice in the back of his mind says, _that’s not true and you know it. She wanted you there. You told her the day that Caroline was born that you didn’t know how it would work. You stood her up just before Caroline turned four and didn’t return her calls. She came to see you and you wouldn’t let her up, or open the door to her. You just let her weep and beg you to answer. You would’ve lost them forever if Stone hadn’t brought her to Major Case that day._

 _Shut up!_ he tells the little voice. _Just shut up. If she had just told me she was pregnant--_ He cuts off that train of thought when he spots the entrance to the 1. He heads over and takes the subway down to Times Square, then switches to the 7 to head back to his apartment. He still can’t believe that Chrissy’s main concern was Caroline’s debutante ball. He still can’t believe that she’s going through that whole rigamarole, that she wants to. She’s an educated girl and he can’t believe that his daughter wants to do this whole song and dance. The amount of money Liz has spent on her education…

Well, at least he’s not gonna have to go to this stupid thing. They’d gone to the International Ball last year because Caroline’s friend Isabelle was being presented and God, that was a nightmare. So many people, so self-congratulatory, happy that they were “Society,” that they had money, that they were “better” than everyone else. How wrong they were. And this year it was their daughter’s turn. He remembers the two weeks of parties and teas and photography sessions Isabelle had been subjected to. Caroline really wants to do that?

He gets off at Hudson Yards and walks two blocks to his new apartment. He lets himself in and goes to his little mailbox. He collects the notification that his mail will be forwarded to his new address. There’s nothing else there, not that he expected anything.

God, this has been a shit day. He heads back up to his apartment and collapses on the sofa.


	26. Chapter 26

She’s worried about her mother. After Parents’ Weekend ends, Mom goes back to the city by train, refusing offers of a ride with either Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Teddy or Grandmother and Grandfather. Her aunt and uncle drive Sadie back with them and her grandparents leave for Southerly, telling her mother that they’ll be happy to come down to the city at any time. She tells them all that she’s fine, she’s fine, and she’s firm in her claims, firm enough that none of her family can protest.

Her mother’s birthday is on Thursday and she has no idea what to get her. She usually is more organized than this, but the past few weeks have thrown her for a loop. She calls the florist they use on Monday and orders an enormous arrangement for her mother--hydrangeas and lilies and bluebells, to be delivered to the apartment on Thursday morning before she goes to work. But what to get her as a present? She’s impossible to buy for. She spends most of Monday afternoon looking for a present, finally deciding on one of Paloma Picasso’s heart necklaces. She has it put on hold for her at the store; she’ll pick it up on Friday when she gets in to the city.

 

On Tuesday, Aunt Chrissy calls her.

‘Hi, darling,’ her aunt says. ‘Are you free to talk for a minute?’

‘Sure,’ she says, shifting her bag of books as she heads back to her dorm after French. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks, Caroline. How are you?’

‘Fine, I just finished French,’ she says.

‘Good,’ Aunt Chrissy says, sounding distracted. ‘Listen, darling, your uncle and I have planned a little surprise party for your mother on Friday. Can you help us with it?’

‘Um, sure,’ she says. ‘I thought that Lucas and I would take Mom out to dinner, though.’

‘I’m sorry, Caroline, I should have asked you about this before planning it,’ Aunt Chrissy says. ‘Teddy and I have booked out Le Charlot for drinks and dinner and we’ve invited a lot of people--your aunts and uncles, of course, and most of your cousins can come, your grandparents and Peter and Miranda, and then of course your mother’s friends--Audrey and Charlie and your godfather, Jane and Sally can come too, and a few other people.’

‘That’s very nice of you, Aunt Chrissy,’ she says, annoyed that she wasn’t consulted and relieved that even if Mike isn’t here, her mother will have a good birthday. ‘What do you need me to do?’

‘Can you and Lucas pretend you’re taking her there for dinner, please? I’m so sorry for stepping on your toes, my dear, I didn’t think.’

She’s soothed, a bit, by her aunt’s apologies. They obviously have what’s best for her mother at heart, and it’s clear they suspect something too, because Aunt Chrissy hasn’t mentioned Mike once.

‘Sure, that’s fine,’ she says, reaching Durfee. She waits on the steps. ‘What time should we be there?’

‘Seven o’clock. Thanks, sweetheart, you’re wonderful.’

‘No problem. Okay, I’ve got to run--’

‘Of course. Thank you, Caroline. We’ll see you on Friday.’

‘Bye,’ she says, and they hang up.

Talking about her mother’s birthday reminds her that Mom will be alone on the actual day. She hadn’t thought about that before and she can’t believe she hadn’t. She heads up to her room and, once she dumps her books, pulls out her phone to call her godfather. She talked to him Sunday night, after the weekend was over, and he was horrified and hopped on the next plane back from Paris. He should be recovered from his jetlag now.

‘How’s my favorite goddaughter?’ he asks, picking up the phone.

‘Hi Nicky,’ she says. ‘I just talked to Aunt Chrissy and she told me about the surprise party she and Uncle Teddy planned.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he says. ‘Well, I will be there, and Archie will be back Friday morning so he’ll be there too.’

‘Good,’ she says, relieved. ‘But listen, I just realized that Mom’s going to be alone on her actual birthday… I’m having flowers delivered, of course, and I’ll give her her present on Friday, but--’

‘Say no more,’ he interrupts her. ‘I’ll take care of everything, make sure she has a really special day. All right? And I’ll see you on Friday. Is there anything you need me to do?’

‘I have to pick up Mom’s present from Tiffany’s on Friday afternoon,’ she says.

‘I can do that if you like,’ he offers. ‘And bring it on Friday to the party.’

‘Would you? That would be great, Nicky. It’s under my name and I’ve already paid for it. It’s a necklace, one of those heart ones by Paloma Picasso.’

‘Good choice,’ he tells her. ‘I found her this really beautiful little vase at an auction a few months ago. I think she’ll like it.’

‘I’m sure she will,’ she says, and pauses. ‘I don’t want Mom to feel lonely.’

‘I’ll take care of everything, darling, I promise,’ he tells her.

‘Thanks, Nicky,’ she says. ‘I’ve got to grab lunch before class, so I’ll talk to you later.’

‘All right. Call whenever. See you Friday.’

‘See you Friday.’

She hangs up and feels better, then switches her books out for her next class and heads to the dining hall to grab lunch.

 

She tells Lucas the plan in the afternoon and he agrees to pretend they're taking her mother out to dinner. He says that he's bought her an Hermès scarf and that he'll meet them at the apartment at 6:30 on Friday. 

She doesn't text her father and doesn't want to talk to him. He's making her mother miserable and he doesn't deserve to hear from her. 

 

On Thursday morning she calls Mom before she leaves for the office. 

‘Thank you, darling, for the beautiful flowers--they just got here.’

‘Good, I'm glad,’ she says. ‘Happy birthday!’

‘Thank you,’ Mom replies.

‘Lucas and I want to take you to dinner tomorrow,’ she says. ‘Le Charlot at 7.’

‘That’s very kind, sweetheart, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble--’

‘I’ve already made the reservation,’ she interrupts. ‘Really, Mom, we want to do this.’

‘Thank you,’ she says softly. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘Of course. So, what are you doing tonight?’

‘Well, Nicky’s told me that he’s whisking me away for a night on the town,’ she says, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice. ‘So I’m not quite sure. He told me to dress up.’

‘Well, that will be fun,’ she says, relieved that Nicky is following through. Well, of course he would, she reminds herself. _He_ has never let them down.

‘Yes, it should be nice,’ her mother agrees. ‘Well, darling, I’m looking forward to seeing you and Lucas tomorrow. Thank you so much for thinking of me and sending the lovely flowers.’

‘I have a present for you for tomorrow too,’ she says. ‘I love you, Mom.’

‘Love you too, darling, and thank you again.’

‘Of course, Mom. Have a good day.’

‘Thank you,’ Mom says again, and they hang up.

She heads over to the dining hall for breakfast and prays silently for her mother does have a good day.


	27. Chapter 27

She opens her eyes on the morning of her birthday and still, only feels the aching sense of loss that has punctuated every day of the past two and a half weeks. God. This is worse than it has ever been, in all of their life together, and different, somehow, too. She’s afraid he’ll never come back.

She gets out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. It’s her birthday. She should pamper herself a little. She draws a bath and makes coffee as the bath fills, then takes it back with her. She pours in some bubble bath and then steps into the tub, sighing as she leans back. That feels a little bit better.

She closes her eyes and lets her mind drift. Nicky called her yesterday and told her he was taking her out on the town, and to dress beautifully. She wonders where they’ll go. She’s grateful for him taking the time to do this, because she and Mike had had plans and staying home by herself would have been too depressing.

She texted him on Monday, when she got back to the city after Parents’ Weekend, suggesting that he come to her office on Wednesday to talk. He texted her back late that day, saying that this week wasn’t good for him after all. That he’d let her know when he was ready to talk. Her heart sank--she wants to reconcile desperately, wants to figure everything out and have him come home, but he clearly doesn’t want that.

She just can’t believe he’s found an apartment, that he’s moved out… he’s barely left anything behind. Every time she opens the closet her heart aches, seeing the empty spaces that were his, seeing the empty dresser across the room, the empty nightstand and his empty bed. God, it hurts every day to come home to no one. To have his wedding ring sitting on the top of her dresser.

Maybe that’s why it feels different this time, she thinks. It’s a clear rejection. A sign that he’s left their marriage. Why didn’t he just take it with him?

She hears her cell phone ring and pulls the plug in the bath, climbing out of the tub and grabbing a towel as she makes her way back to the bedroom. She looks at her phone--it’s her mother, and she picks up.

‘Hi, Mummy.’

‘Hello, my darling. Happy birthday!’

‘Thank you,’ she says, pulling the towel tighter around her. ‘How are you?’

‘Good. I won’t keep you, I just wanted to tell you that I love you.’

‘I love you too. And you’re still coming down this weekend?’

‘Yes,’ her mother says. ‘Can’t wait to see you.’

‘Me neither. I should go, I need to get ready for work.’

‘All right, Lilibet. I love you.’

She’s suddenly choked up at the sound of her childhood nickname, which is ridiculous, because Nicky only calls her Lilibet. ‘I love you too.’

They hang up, and she starts to get dressed for the day when the apartment phone rings. She makes her way to the hall and is told that there’s a flower delivery for her.

‘Send them up, please,’ she says, and hurriedly zips her dress and goes to the front door to wait.

She hears the sound of a cart being pushed, then sees in round the corner. She gapes--it's filled with flowers--and the delivery boy peers around it.

‘Could you sign, please?’ he asks, offering her a clipboard. She does, then he pushes the cart inside at her direction and places the flowers on the dining room table. There are three arrangements--hydrangeas, lilies, and bluebells; pink roses; and pale yellow roses with lilies of the valley. She opens the cards once the delivery boy leaves. The first arrangement is from Caroline-- _Happy birthday Mom, I am so lucky you are my mother!!! You are the best mom in the world and I love you._ The next is from Teddy and Chrissy, and the card reads _Thank you for being such a wonderful cousin and friend, happy birthday to a special person! We love you._ The last one is from her parents, and the card reads _We are so grateful that you are our daughter. We love you so much and are proud of you every day! Love Mummy and Daddy_. She's touched--she does have people who love her, even if she misses the person who was supposed to love her the most--and her phone rings, diverting her maudlin thoughts.

‘Thank you, darling, for the beautiful flowers--they just got here,’ she says, picking up the phone.

‘Good, I'm glad,’ her daughter replies. ‘Happy birthday!’

‘Thank you,’ she replies.

‘Lucas and I want to take you to dinner tomorrow,’ she says. ‘Le Charlot at 7.’

‘That’s very kind, sweetheart, but I don’t want you to go to any trouble--’

‘I’ve already made the reservation,’ Caroline interrupts. ‘Really, Mom, we want to do this.’

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘Of course. So, what are you doing tonight?’

‘Well, Nicky’s told me that he’s whisking me away for a night on the town,’ she says, still amused by his phrasing. ‘So I’m not quite sure. He told me to dress up.’

‘Well, that will be fun,’ she says.

‘Yes, it should be nice,’ she agrees. ‘Well, darling, I’m looking forward to seeing you and Lucas tomorrow. Thank you so much for thinking of me and sending the lovely flowers.’

‘I have a present for you for tomorrow too,’ she says. ‘I love you, Mom.’

‘Love you too, darling, and thank you again.’

‘Of course, Mom. Have a good day.’

She hangs up the phone and looks at Sadie, who has padded out of the living room. ‘Ready for your walk?’

Sadie grins and she finds herself smiling back. She walks to the closet and finds her shoes and Sadie’s leash, then clips it on. She grabs her keys and heads downstairs, then walks Sadie a few blocks. It's a beautiful day today, she notes, and the good weather lifts her mood a bit. When she brings Sadie back through the lobby, Tony stops to wish her a happy birthday. She thanks him and they continue upstairs.

She feeds Sadie, fills her water bowl, then collects her things from her study and gets ready to go. Checking to make sure she has everything, and taking one last look at the beautiful flowers she’s been sent, she heads out to work.

 

When she arrives at the office she’s greeted with yet more flowers, this time from the other doctors in her practice and Jessica, and she thanks them all. They offer to take her to lunch, but she has shuffled her schedule around today, making sure she can leave early so that she can get ready for the evening. She hasn’t given herself time for lunch, so she thanks them but declines.

She keeps herself busy all day, taking a ten-minute break at three o’clock to grab another cup of coffee and check her messages. She has one from her father-- _Darling girl, you are so wonderful and I love you so much. Happy birthday to my wonderful daughter!_ \--and texts from Audrey, Jane, Sally, and Jamie Ross, along with the rest of her cousins, minus Helen. Nicky, too, has texted her, saying that he loves her and he’ll be at the apartment at six.

She finishes her appointments at four and says goodbye to Jessica before heading home. She collects her mail from the desk, then heads upstairs to take Sadie out. She’s going to need to hire a dogwalker--she’ll see who Teddy and Chrissy use. She goes back through the side door and feeds Sadie again, then takes a quick shower before dressing in the little black dress she wore for dinner with Caroline and Lucas the other night. She puts on a string of pearls, her big pearl earrings, and spritzes perfume just as the doorbell rings.

‘Coming!’ she calls, and walks down the hall to the front door. Opening it, she’s faced with a sea of roses.

‘Is the door open?’ Nicky asks, and she laughs for the first time in a long time.

‘Yes, it is, darling. This is too much!’

Nicky bends and sets the flowers down and smiles at her--he’s wearing a tuxedo, so she knows they’re going somewhere nice. She wants to change now, though, to a long dress.

‘Happy birthday, my darling Lilibet,’ he says, leaning forward to peck her on the lips. ‘Now, help me bring your flowers in?’

There are several bunches, she sees, and she picks up two and he collects the other two.

‘If you’re wearing a tuxedo, I should change,’ she tells him.

‘You look perfect, but I do love you in a long dress,’ he says, and God, she’s glad for Nicky, for his lighthearted manner when she’s been so sad for weeks.

‘Then I’ll change,’ she says.

‘I’ll put these in water,’ he says. ‘There’s one for each year of your life.’

‘God, Nicky, I don’t want to remember how old I am right now,’ she says, and he laughs.

‘You look like you’re in your thirties--you have nothing to worry about. Me, on the other hand…’

‘You’re dashing,’ she tells him. ‘A silver fox.’

He throws his head back and laughs, and she joins in. Reaching the kitchen, they set the flowers down, and she steps forward and hugs him.

‘Thank you for taking me out for my birthday.’

‘Thank you for allowing me.’

‘I’m going to change,’ she says, pulling back. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

‘Take your time,’ he says, ‘I’ll put these in water.’

She kisses his cheek and goes back into her room, rifling through her closet, finally deciding on the long black dress she bought a few years ago. It has a fitted waist and a skirt that is slightly full, but not unmanageable. She hasn’t worn it often, so this is a good time to do so. She zips up the dress, looks at herself quickly in the mirror-- _good!_ she thinks--and goes down the hall to the kitchen.

Her kitchen table is engulfed with the roses and she smiles at him. He clasps his hands to his heart.

‘Lilibet, you are stunning,’ he says, then extends his hand to her. She rests her hand in his. ‘I'll be the envy of every man tonight.’

She smiles. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I thought we’d start at Bemelmans, then go on to Doubles. Then we'll see.’

‘Perfect,’ she says, and he grins and bows.

‘Are you ready?’

‘I'm ready.’

 

They have martinis at Bemelmans and listen to the jazz band for a while before getting a cab and heading down to Doubles. The club has become far more teenager-friendly in recent years--Caroline likes to go with her friends--but tonight is for the adults, and she and Nicky are shown to an excellent table as soon as they descend the stairs to the club. They are greeted by the owner and when their waiter arrives at their table, Nicky orders a bottle of champagne.

‘It’s a special someone’s birthday,’ he confides to the waiter, and she laughs and blushes. She realizes, with a start, that she’s enjoying herself for the first time in ages.

They drink champagne and have a delicious meal and dance between courses, swing dancing and slow dancing and even the cha-cha. She protests at the last dance, saying, ‘Aren’t we a bit too old to cha-cha now? Won’t we look ridiculous?’

‘The cha-cha is no more ridiculous than life itself,’ he tells her, and smoothly pulls her into the steps. He’s an excellent dancer, always has been, ever since they took dancing lessons together as children. They’ve always been excellent dancing partners, too, and she loves dancing with him, trusting him, following his lead as though they read each other’s minds.

They finish the cha-cha and they look at each other and laugh, slightly breathless, then return to their table. He tops off their glasses with champagne and then, suddenly, the waiter and others are coming to their table, carrying a cake with lit candles.

‘Happy birthday to you,’ Nicky and the waitstaff sing. ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Lilibet,’ he sings alone, then everyone joins in again to finish, ‘Happy birthday to you!’

‘Thank you, darling,’ she tells him, unspeakably touched. She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand, then closes her eyes and makes a wish. I wish Mike would come home, she prays silently, then opens her eyes and blows out the candles. She manages to get them all, thank God, so hopefully her wish will come true. Nicky meets her eyes and smiles.

‘Happy birthday, Lilibet,’ he says, handing her the cake knife. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ she says, and cuts the cake.

 

They dance again, smooth and slow, her cheek against his. He holds her close and she feels safe and loved and content. It's been a good birthday, despite it all.

‘Can you believe we’ve known each other fifty years?’ she asks him.

He nods. ‘Well, I can’t believe we’re in our fifties, but yes, I can believe we’ve known each other for most of our lives. You’re like a part of me, Lilibet. My dearest friend.’

‘And you are mine,’ she says, and he squeezes her hand. ‘Thank you.’

He nods again. ‘You’ve done the same for me countless times, darling, and I hate to see you sad.’

‘I haven’t been sad this evening,’ she says, and the band announces that this will be their last song. She pulls back and looks at him. ‘Thank you, Nicky.’

‘Thank you, Lilibet,’ he says, and kisses her forehead. ‘One more dance?’

‘One more,’ she agrees, and he pulls her close again.

 

Later, when Nicky signs the chit and they head upstairs to get a cab, he asks, ‘Have you been on Instagram yet today?’

‘No,’ she says. She rarely opens the app on her phone--she even more rarely posts, and really only has an account to see what is going on in Caroline’s life. Caroline is a prolific poster.

‘Well, let’s check in the cab,’ he says, and successfully hails one. He opens the door and gets in first--a lady never slides--and she gets in after him. As Nicky gives the driver the address, she pulls out her phone and opens Instagram.

Caroline’s post is first--a series of photos of her. The caption reads _I’m so lucky to have the most amazing mother in the world! Happy birthday to my favorite person!_ She holds out the phone so that Nicky can see it, and they flip through the photos--one of them at Caroline’s graduation from Farmington, one of the two of them at some Chapin alumnae party, another of her skippering the Selkie, the two of them before the wedding, a picture of her with a newborn Caroline in the hospital looking so thrilled, and then she and Nicky at her debutante ball, her graduation from Farmington, and, finally, a picture of her in Bermuda as a teenager, perched on the edge of the wall at Coral Beach overlooking the ocean.

‘Where did she get all of these?’ she asks him. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen the last one.’

‘Some are from me,’ he says. ‘That last one is one I took when we were in Bermuda, remember? With your parents and your cousins. I guess she raided your photo albums for the others.’

She smiles. ‘She’s so thoughtful.’

‘You raised her well,’ Nicky says. ‘Now look at my post.’

She chuckles and scrolls down, finding his, and then laughs out loud. They’re seven or eight, she thinks, at the Maidstone, and he’s buried up to his neck in sand. She’s standing next to him, one foot resting on an overturned bucket, hands on her hips, grinning at the camera. He’s laughing in the picture and she remembers this so clearly, remembers dissolving into giggles after someone took the photo, remembers laughing so hard she couldn’t dig him out for ages.

‘I was so annoyed with you when it took you an hour to get me out of there,’ he teases her. ‘But it makes for a good picture. I have it framed on my desk at the office, you know.’

‘I didn’t know,’ she says, wiping away a tear. ‘Oh, darling, that’s perfect.’

‘And read the caption,’ he insists, and she scrolls down to read, This amazing woman has been putting me in my place for the past fifty years. _Thank you for being my best friend--happy birthday Lilibet!_

‘Thank you, Nicky,’ she says, and the cab pulls up to her building. ‘Thank you for making this a special day.’

‘Of course, darling. Would you like me to come up?’

‘I’ll be all right,’ she tells him. ‘Thank you, though.’

‘All right,’ he says, and pulls her into a hug, kissing her cheek. ‘I love you, darling. Happy birthday.’

‘Thank you,’ she says again, and with one final hug she exits the cab and heads back up to her apartment. She uses the side door--she isn’t in the mood for conversation now--and heads up to her apartment. She pats Sadie, then heads to her bedroom. Unzipping her dress, she leaves it in a puddle on the floor, removes her makeup in the bathroom, and falls into bed wearing only her underwear. She’s asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

 

Sadie wakes her up early, sticking her cold nose in her face. She struggles up out of sleep to see that it’s only six o’clock, and despite the late night she feels refreshed. She climbs out of bed and looks out the window, noting that it will be a clear day, then uses the bathroom before putting on a pair of shorts and a cashmere sweater. She heads out to the hall closet to collect Sadie’s leash, and grabs her keys and card case, which she tucks into her pocket along with her cell phone, before they head out the door.

They’re up an hour or so earlier than they usually are, so she and Sadie head over to the Park, entering at 79th Street and heading up to the Reservoir, exiting at 90th Street. She grabs a coffee from the cafe at the Church of the Heavenly Rest, where she’s gone all her life. When she and Ben married, though, they decided to get married at the church near her parents’ house in Connecticut, because they’d decided to have the reception at the yacht club. She’d also gone to that church for most of her life--at least during summers--so it was a good choice. And when she and Mike married, obviously a church wasn’t even a possibility, and she loved their wedding at Southerly…

She drags her thoughts back to the present when the barista hands her her coffee and she pays. She heads back outside, to where Sadie is waiting patiently, and unties her from the railing. She checks her phone--it’s only seven, so they still have time, and they head back down through the park again. It’s busier now, so it takes a bit longer, but they reach home by a quarter to eight. She feels better after the coffee and the walk, and feeds Sadie before heading back to take a long shower.

She’s looking forward to seeing her daughter today, she thinks, smiling to herself. It’s so nice of Caroline and Lucas to take her out to dinner. Her daughter is such a thoughtful person, even if she does say so herself--thoughtful and kind and considerate, even if she is a bit impulsive and too often blames herself for things that are beyond her control. God, she is lucky, so lucky, to have such a wonderful daughter. She loves her with all her heart--and she loves Lucas too, which is good, because if she’s honest with herself she expects they’ll get married in a few years. That’s good. He’ll be a good son-in-law, and she thinks that Caroline will be happy with him. And then they might have children, too… her grandchildren. God, she can’t wait for grandchildren. She’d wanted another child so much, so badly, but that wasn’t a possibility… and besides, after Caroline was born, she hadn’t wanted Ben’s child, just Mike’s. But grandchildren… how wonderful would that be?

She turns off the shower and steps out, drying her hair with a towel before heading into her bedroom to look through her closet. It was on the chilly side this morning, so she decides on a longsleeved silk blouse and narrow twill trousers. She checks her bag to make sure she has everything, pats Sadie goodbye, and puts on a pair of needlepoint smoking slippers before heading out the door.

Despite herself, she thinks, heading down Park, she’d expected… something from her husband yesterday. Some sort of acknowledgement of her birthday. A text, at the very least. She’d hoped for a present, but that was too much, she knew. But something. Instead there was nothing.

On Tuesday she’d gone through every drawer, every closet, even through his office, looking for something, anything. He hadn’t even left her a card. Did she really mean that little to him, after nine years of marriage? After everything they’d been through?

She sighs and continues down the street. It’s his turn to reach out. She won’t push him--she knows that doesn’t work, it will only drive him further away. And if he doesn’t come back… well, he’s left her before. She’s lived without him before. She’s had a life without him and if she needs to, she’ll be able to have one without him again. Even if she doesn’t want to ever live without him again.

 _It will be all right_ , she tells herself. _It will be all right. Whatever happens, it will be all right._

 

Caroline doesn’t come meet her for lunch today--she’d texted to say she has to finish a few errands before dinner--but when she makes her way back home Caroline’s left her a note taped to the closet door, telling her she’s taken Sadie for a walk and she’ll be back around five. It’s a quarter to five now, she notes, so she sheds her shoes and walks down the hall to her room. She pauses at Caroline’s bedroom door--it’s open, and her clothes are dumped on the bed. This was her room when she was a child. She painted it yellow before Caroline was born, wanting it to feel sunny and welcoming for her. The room has been repainted since, of course, and is now painted Lulworth Blue, a favorite Farrow & Ball color. Her room has crisp white linen bedding, covered now by piles of clothes, and a little chaise in the corner along with a mahogany desk and chair. It’s an elegant room.

She continues down the hall to her room. She’ll shower and then get ready to go. Lucas will be here in just over an hour, and they’ll have a drink before dinner, so she wants to be ready before that. She washes quickly and gets out of the shower after a few minutes, drying off and putting on her robe. She hears her daughter call her name and she calls back, saying she’ll just be a minute. She looks at herself in the mirror--she looks fine, if a bit tired without makeup--and emerges, pushing up the sleeves of her Turkish cotton robe.

‘Hi, Mom!’ her daughter says, standing up from the bed. ‘Happy birthday!’

She hugs her daughter tight. She’d put the bouquet Caroline sent her on Mike’s empty dresser, while her parents’ flowers were in the living room and Teddy and Chrissy’s were in the dining room. Nicky’s were also in the living room, and some were in her bathroom, too.

‘Thanks, darling,’ she says, kissing her cheek. She pulls back and looks at her. ‘You look wonderful.’

‘Thanks,’ Caroline says, smiling at her. ‘I need a shower though, it’s so hot outside!’

‘Well, you have time,’ she says. ‘I’m going to get dressed, hmm? And I’ll make sure there’s wine in the fridge.’

‘I brought some champagne,’ Caroline tells her. ‘It’s in the fridge now, so we can have some when Lucas gets here.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ she says, touched. ‘That’s lovely.’

Caroline smiles. ‘Anything for you, Mom. We need to celebrate your birthday properly! Did you have a good time with Nicky?’

She smiles. ‘I did. I’ll tell you all about it after your shower, all right?’

‘All right,’ Caroline replies. ‘Then I’ll shower now, because I’m dying to hear!’

‘It’s not that exciting,’ she protests, but Caroline shakes her head and disappears into her bathroom. After a moment, she hears the shower turn on and she turns to her closet, looking for something to wear. Le Charlot isn’t too formal, but nor is it really casual, and besides, it’s a birthday dinner, so she should dress nicely. She finally decides on a deep green silk shirtdress she bought a few years ago, and she’ll wear last night’s pearl earrings and maybe the emerald pendant her parents bought her for her thirty-first birthday. Or maybe she’ll just wear the emerald earrings and not the necklace--the neckline of this dress is a bit difficult for necklaces.

She hates being this indecisive. She’s usually sure of everything--what to do, to wear--but the events of the past few weeks have thrown her for a loop. She puts on the emerald earrings first, then tries the pearl ones, and decides on the pearls. Caroline reappears as she puts on her perfume. She looks lovely in a blue silk skirt and ivory blouse, her hair pulled loosely back. She’s wearing the diamond earrings she got for her eighteenth birthday.

‘You look lovely,’ she tells her daughter, who grins and ruins the grown-up look when she flops on the bed.

‘Thanks, Mom. You look lovely too.’ She smiles at her daughter in the mirror and then Caroline says, ‘So tell me about your day!’

‘Well, Nicky brought me an incredible amount of flowers,’ she begins. ‘A red rose for each year of my life. That’s why they’re everywhere.’

Caroline giggles. ‘I was wondering. It looks like a garden in here.’

She smiles. ‘Yes, well, then we went to Bemelmans for martinis and then to Doubles for dinner and dancing.’

‘Did you dance the night away?’ Caroline teases, rolling onto her stomach and crossing her ankles.

‘We did indeed,’ she says. ‘Did you know, when we had to go to all these awful dancing classes as children, Nicky and I were always partners?’

‘I didn’t,’ Caroline says. ‘And he was your escort at your debutante ball, right?’

‘Yes, he was. We had a wonderful time. By that point we’d been dancing together for a decade.’

Caroline smiles. ‘I’m glad Lucas will be my escort.’

‘Yes, and it’s lovely he’ll be here already,’ she agrees. ‘We need to start talking about your dress.’

‘I want to wear yours,’ Caroline says promptly. ‘It’s so beautiful, Mom, and still in great shape. I tried it on this afternoon and it fits perfectly.’

She speaks around a sudden lump in her throat. ‘Well, good. Why don’t you try it on for me later and we can see how it looks?’ Caroline nods. ‘Good.’ There are other things they need to discuss, such as who will present her now that it looks like Mike won’t be there, but they can wait--especially as the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll get it,’ Caroline says, getting up off the bed. She hears her daughter’s quick footsteps, then a rapid chatter of French, and smiles to herself. She’s so glad Caroline is happy. She lets them speak for a few minutes, then goes out to join them.

‘Liz, happy birthday,’ Lucas says, coming over to kiss her cheeks when she enters the living room.

‘I’m going to get the champagne,’ Caroline announces, and she smiles at Lucas.

‘Thank you. I had a lovely day. And thank you and Caroline for taking me to dinner.’

He smiles at her. ‘Of course. Would you like your present now, or at the restaurant?’

‘At the restaurant,’ Caroline interrupts. ‘Better that way. Lucas, can you open the bottle, please?’

‘Of course,’ he says, taking the bottle from Caroline. Her daughter collects three glasses from the small bar in the corner and holds them, waiting while Lucas removes the foil and cage, then pops the cork. Caroline catches the wine with the glasses in a practiced motion--the two of them have clearly done this before--and she smiles when Caroline hands her a glass.

‘Happy birthday, Mom,’ she says.

‘Happy birthday, Liz,’ Lucas echoes, and they all take a sip. It's a very nice champagne, she notes, and thanks them again.

‘Anything for you, Mom,’ her daughter says.

They chat, and finish the bottle of champagne, and then it's time to go. Lucas carries her presents and they leave through the lobby, walking the few blocks to the restaurant. They arrive precisely at seven, Caroline having directed them down Fifth for some reason instead of cutting over from Park.

‘I’ll go first!’ Caroline exclaims, squeezing past her in the narrow vestibule. Lucas follows, and she brings up the rear, then stops with surprise.

‘Happy birthday!’ the people in the restaurant cry. She looks at them--her cousins, Teddy and Chrissy at the front. Her nieces and nephews. Audrey and Charlie and their son, her godson. Nicky, leaning against the wall, Archie’s arm around his shoulders. Jane and Sally. Jamie Ross and her husband, and her talented daughter Katie. Even Katy and Pat, and then, front and center, Peter and Miranda and her parents. Everyone is beaming at her and she swallows back sudden tears to smile at them all.

‘Are you surprised?’ Nicky calls, and she laughs.

‘I’m very surprised,’ she says in response. ‘I think I need to catch my breath!’

Everyone laughs, and then things are easy again, and then her parents step forward and embrace her.

‘Did you plan this?’ she asks, looking at them.

‘No, Teddy and Chrissy did,’ her father replies. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘Very,’ she admits. ‘Neither Caroline nor Nicky let anything slip.’

They chuckle. ‘Good,’ her mother says. ‘Now, go say thank you to your cousins.’

‘Yes, Mummy,’ she says, rolling her eyes dramatically, and they all laugh. She hugs them again, tight, and walks over to Chrissy and Teddy.

‘I hope you don’t think we overstepped,’ Chrissy says, whispering in her ear as she hugs her. ‘We just wanted to do something special. And I know you hate parties, but…’

‘No, this is perfect,’ she says, hugging her back tight, then turning to Teddy. ‘I’m touched, really--thank you so much.’

Teddy’s smile has a hint of sadness in it, and she steps forward quickly to hug him, closing her eyes.

‘We love you, Liz,’ he says softly, kissing the top of her head. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thank you,’ she says, her voice muffled against his blazer. She takes a deep breath and pulls back, looking at her cousins. ‘So, what’s the plan for the evening?’

‘Cocktails, dinner, presents, cake,’ Chrissy says. ‘We’ve organized the seating--we put you in the center, so you can talk to more people.’

‘Thank you,’ she says again. ‘You are the best cousins I could ever wish for.’

They smile at her.

‘Lilibet!’ she hears Nicky call, and she looks over Chrissy’s shoulder at him. He’s standing with the Sally Fowler Rat Pack, and for a moment she experiences a strange double vision, the way they were overlaid with the way they are now. ‘I need you to tell Jane that I did actually take you out on the town last night.’

‘I believe you,’ Jane begins, long-suffering and amused, but Nicky interrupts her and calls her over again. She smiles at her cousins and walks over to her friends.

‘We danced the night away,’ she confirms, greeting her friends with hugs. ‘Nick took me to Bemelmans and then Doubles, and we closed the place down.’

They laugh.

‘And of course I persuaded Lilibet into the cha-cha,’ Nicky boasts, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Charlie says, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. ‘I think we need a demonstration.’ Marriage to Audrey has been good for him, she thinks for the millionth time. There was once a time when he’d never have joked like this.

‘Of course,’ Nicky says, and suddenly he’s spinning her to face him, sliding his arm around her waist, grasping her hand in his. And then Archie’s pulled up the music on his phone, and Nicky’s grinning at her, and she just follows his lead.

‘What are we doing?’ she whispers in his ear when he pulls her closer.

‘The cha-cha,’ he says, but belies his words by spinning her around. She laughs and they clasp hands again, and then he winks and they both assume serious faces, straighten their backs, and really play up the dance. As the song comes to an end, he bends her back in a dip, and everyone applauds. She straightens up and blushes, and Nicky leans forward and kisses her on the cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she says, and he smiles at her.

‘Any time,’ he says.

Audrey says, ‘you two are such good dancers! I’m jealous.’

‘I’m only a good dancer because I have the best partner,’ she says as Nicky wraps his arm around her shoulder again.

‘Well, you have been dancing together for half a century,’ Sally remarks, and Nicky groans.

‘God, Sally, do you have to remind us all that we’ve reached the dreaded middle age?’ Nicky says, mock glaring at her.

‘Yes, I haven’t had nearly enough to drink to forget that,’ Jane chimes in. ‘Liz, what can I get you?’

‘Champagne, please,’ she says, figuring she should stick with wine tonight. ‘Thanks, Jane.’

‘Anyone else?’ Everyone nods, so Archie and Charlie volunteer to help carry glasses back.

Audrey asks innocently, ‘Where’s Mike?’

‘He’s out of town for work,’ she lies. Having expected the question, she doesn’t flinch, but Nicky squeezes her shoulder in a silent show of support.

‘I’m sorry,’ Audrey says. ‘We were looking forward to seeing him. When will he be back?’

‘Soon,’ she says, and thankfully Jane, Archie, and Charlie return with drinks.

‘Here’s to you, Liz,’ Sally says, once everyone has a glass. ‘Happy birthday!’

 

The rest of the cocktail hour is a blur. There are so many people here for her, and she’s just overwhelmed with gratitude. How did she get so lucky to have so many wonderful friends, such a generous family?

They sit down for dinner. Teddy and Chrissy have organized the table to perfection--she’s seated next to her daughter and to Chrissy, with her parents across the table, and Nicky next to them, and her other friends and family seamlessly integrated with each other. As wine is poured, her father taps his knife against his glass and stands, the table quieting.

‘I’ve been very lucky in my life,’ her quiet father begins. He hates doing these sorts of things, she knows, so the fact that he’s making a toast now is astonishing to her. ‘And the two luckiest things in my life have been my wife and my daughter. Thank you all for joining us to celebrate my wonderful daughter’s birthday.’ Her father catches her gaze and smiles at her. ‘Elizabeth, we love you very much. Happy birthday!’

She smiles back at him, her eyes filling with tears. Her father… God, she’s so lucky to have two amazing parents. Even when she and her mother didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye, her father was always there, quiet, supportive, loving… the best father she could imagine. That’s what she wanted for Caroline, she wanted her to always know that her father loved her and supported her… she doesn’t have that. She’s never had that.

Her father lifts his glass to her, and she smiles again, lifting her own glass in response. ‘Thank you, Daddy,’ she says.

Teddy stands up next and she wants to bury her head in her hands. She hates being so obviously the center of attention… ‘I know that Liz is dying of embarrassment,’ Teddy begins, and everyone laughs. She ponders how best to kick him under the table. ‘So I’ll keep this quick, and then we can all eat. But Liz,’ he says, turning to look at her, grinning. ‘Liz is one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet… and I’m extra lucky, because she’s my cousin. She introduced me to my wife, she is the best aunt, and she’s the godmother to our daughter. Liz, thank you for being such an amazing person. We love you.’

‘Here, here!’ Chrissy says, laughing.

‘Can I do one now?’ Nicky calls.

‘No!’ she exclaims, but he stands up anyway.

‘So, Lilibet and I have known each other for a long time now,’ he says, addressing the table. ‘I won’t say how long because I refuse to acknowledge we’re actually that old now. Anyway…’ he turns to her. ‘She’s been my best friend for most of our lives, and she’s not afraid of putting me in my place… like the time we were seven at the Maidstone when she buried me up to my neck in sand.’ She laughs along with everyone else. ‘All right, all right, settle down,’ he says, tapping his glass with his knife to be heard over the laughter. When it fades enough for him to continue, he says, ‘She always has the best advice, she’s the most wonderful dance partner, and I’m lucky to be the only one allowed to call her Lilibet still. Darling, I love you more than anyone in the world--’

‘Hey!’ Archie protests, and Nicky laughs.

‘--except Archie,’ he says, and Archie laughs and settles back in his chair.

‘You’re actually the one I love best,’ Nicky tells her, sotto voce, and Archie pretends to pout. ‘Anyway, darling, you are the light of my life, my better half, my dearest friend. I’m glad I could take you out on the town last night. Thank you for being you. Thank you for trusting me to be your beautiful daughter’s godfather--’ she turns to look at her daughter, who is on the verge of giggles, ‘--that was probably a mistake but it’s a role that I relish.’ Her face hurts from smiling, from laughing, at this heartfelt and loving toast. ‘I am so grateful for you. I love you.’

She blows him a kiss. ‘I love you too, Nicky,’ she says, and he winks at her before sitting down. ‘Now, please, can we just eat and hold off on anything else?’

‘But I want to say something, Mom,’ Caroline protests, and she raises an eyebrow at her daughter, who grins. ‘I’ll be quick,’ she promises, and stands up.

‘Take as much time as you’d like,’ Chrissy says, and Caroline smiles mischievously.

‘My mother is different things to all of you--daughter, colleague, friend--but I think that I’m the luckiest, because she’s my mother.’ Her daughter looks down at her. ‘Mom, you’ve been the most supportive, thoughtful, caring, and loving person I could ever wish to have as a parent. I’m so, so lucky that you are my mother. I love you.’

She reaches out and squeezes her daughter’s hand. ‘Well, you are the best daughter a mother could ask for,’ she says, trying to stay light when she only wants to cry at her daughter’s kind words. ‘I love you, Caroline.’

Her daughter bends gracefully and hugs her. ‘I love you so much, Mommy,’ she whispers, and she squeezes tight, grateful for her daughter. When she releases Caroline, she smiles at her, then sits back down.

‘All right, I think we’ll stop embarrassing Liz… for now,’ Chrissy says, and signals to the waiters that they can start to bring the food. As the waiters set their starters down, she turns to her cousin.

‘Thank you, Chrissy,’ she says, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m very lucky.’

‘We’re lucky,’ Chrissy says. ‘We love you, Liz.’

‘I love you too.’

 

Before the cake there are presents to be opened. She feels completely spoiled. She opens a beautiful heart necklace from Caroline, an Hermes scarf from Lucas, and season tickets to the opera from Peter and Miranda. Teddy and Chrissy tell her they’ve had a case of champagne delivered, as have Audrey and Charlie. Nicky gives her a beautiful little Limoges vase that he and Archie found at an auction. Jane and Sally give her a spa certificate, and her parents tell her that they’ll give her her present tomorrow, over lunch. Jamie Ross and her husband present her with a framed photograph he’d taken of Caroline at her high school graduation. Katy and Pat present her with a silk blouse Katy explains she made.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she says, thanking her brother- and sister-in-law. She’s so glad they’ve come, and they seem to have enjoyed themselves so far this evening.

‘It’s stunning,’ Chrissy pronounces. ‘I can’t believe you made it, Katy! Listen, we’ve been stuck trying to find a good dress for Eliza for the Infirmary Ball. If we come see you, do you think you could make it?’

Katy is stunned, for a moment, but nods. ‘Yes, I think I could.’

‘Caroline’s wearing mine,’ she says, still so touched by her daughter’s professed desire to do so. ‘Katy, I know you’ll do a wonderful job.’

‘Thanks, Liz,’ Katy says, smiling at her.

‘Let me give you my card,’ Chrissy says, extracting one from her purse. She scribbles a number on the back. ‘That’s my cell. Could you call me tomorrow and we can set up an appointment?’

‘Sure,’ Katy agrees, tucking the card into her purse.

Suddenly waiters are pouring more champagne, and the lights are dimmed, and Nicky emerges from the back, carrying a cake.

‘Happy birthday to you,’ he begins, and everyone joins in. ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Liz, happy birthday to you!’

Nicky sets the cake down in front of her. ‘Make a wish,’ he says, and rests his hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. She looks up at him for a moment, rests her hand on his, and leans forward to blow out the candles.

 _Please, Mike_ , she prays, _come home. Please come home._

Nicky squeezes her hand and she opens her eyes, forcing herself to smile at her guests. She’s suddenly, completely overwhelmed with longing for her husband, for him to be here, with his hand on her shoulder instead of Nicky’s. And yes, she loves Nicky and she’s grateful for him, but she needs Mike…

The waiter comes and removes the cake so that it can be cut; Nicky squeezes her shoulder again and goes back to his seat.

Caroline asks her, ‘What did you wish for?’

‘You know I can’t tell you that,’ she says, grateful for the distraction.

Her daughter smiles. ‘I know, but I thought I’d ask.’

The cake is served, and as she picks up her fork to take a bite, she realizes just how exhausted she is. She’d expected a short, quiet dinner with just Caroline and Lucas, not an involved party. And yes, she’s glad everyone’s here, but… God, she misses her husband.

She plasters a smile on her face and nods when Chrissy begins talking to her and just yearns to home, in bed, alone.

She’s glad she has such a wonderful family, such wonderful friends, but she just… she wants to be home.

Finally the cake has been eaten, the champagne drunk, and it’s time to go home. Her daughter collects the presents and she says goodbye to everyone. Nicky and Archie hang back, and her daughter says, ‘Do you mind if I stay with Lucas?’

‘Of course not, darling,’ she says. She smiles and kisses her cheek.

‘Thanks, Mom. I’ll come by tomorrow and pick up my things, okay?’

‘Of course,’ she says, and with one last hug Caroline and Lucas leave together. She watches them go, wrapped up in each other, and is glad that her daughter has someone to love, someone who loves her.

They disappear from sight and she turns to look at Nicky and Archie.

‘That was a great party,’ Archie says, and she smiles at Nicky’s husband.

‘Mm, I agree. Thank you both for coming.’

‘We wouldn't miss it,’ Nicky tells her. ‘Now, let's get you home.’


	28. Chapter 28

He calls the frame store a day after his confrontation with Chrissy and has them deliver the portrait to his new apartment instead. He’s furious, far angrier now than he was when he went out to Oyster Bay and fucked shit up, so angry that the only thing these people seem to care about is how things look. The anger keeps going on and on and he realizes that he’s been holding onto this for years. The entire week he’s furious and feeling like this is almost a relief. At least it’s familiar. And he just… God, he can’t stand it.

On Friday night--Liz’s birthday dinner--he goes out to a bar around the corner from his new place--one of the few in the area--and gets completely legless. He stumbles back to his apartment after last call and spends the rest of the night alternately getting sick, tossing in a restless sleep, and guzzling water.

Saturday morning is a nightmare. He’s more hungover than he’s been in years and he barely makes it to the diner to get a bacon egg and cheese. That only helps a bit, but the egg cream he convinces them to make helps more, so by the time he gets home in the early afternoon he’s feeling almost human again.

He pulls out his computer and logs onto Instagram. He never uses his account--Caroline set it up for him, at his request, so he could see what was going on in her life when she was away at school--and he wants to see last night’s dinner. He only follows Caroline and Liz, so he sees Caroline’s posts right away.

There’s a photograph of Caroline and Liz, Caroline’s arms around her mother, both of them smiling. Liz looks tired and too thin, but she is smiling, and Caroline looks so beautiful.

 _The surprise party was a success! Happy birthday Mom!_ reads the caption.

The next post is a series of photos. He flips through them--Liz and Caroline at Caroline’s graduation from Farmington, one of Caroline and Liz at some party outdoors, one of Liz sailing a few years back, another of Caroline and Liz when Caroline was probably ten, a picture of Liz holding Caroline in the hospital--that one stops his heart, he’s never seen it before--and then that picture of Liz and Nick and Liz’s debutante ball, one of Liz at her Farmington graduation, and finally Liz as a leggy teenager, perched on a wall in Bermuda.

 _I’m so lucky to have the most amazing mother in the world! Happy birthday to my favorite person!_ Caroline wrote as the caption. There are lots of comments beneath it, and he clicks on them.

 **elizagriswold** Happy birthday Aunt Liz!!! I love you!!! **@e.olivet**  
**nicksmith007** Happy birthday to my beloved Lilibet! I can’t wait to take you out on the town tonight. **@e.olivet**

Hmm, he’ll come back to that. He bets Nick posted something, too.

 **lucas_montigny** Happy birthday Liz! Have a wonderful day!

And then there are a lot of other comments from Liz’s family and Caroline’s friends, and he’s bored with reading them, so he clicks over to Nick’s profile.

There’s a video from last night posted and he clicks on it, watching as someone films Nick and Liz dancing in an exaggeratedly serious manner. It’s only a snippet of what is obviously a longer dance, and he can hear the laughter and clapping in the background along with the music. At the end, Nick dips Liz and she laughs, straightening up and kissing him on the cheek. His heart clenches. She’s never going to laugh like that again with him.

The next photo is of Nick and Liz, both dressed up, at Doubles according to the location tag. _So, so lucky to have the most amazing best friend! Happy birthday to the best woman in the whole world!_ he wrote. And then the next picture is of Liz and Nick as children, Nick buried up to his neck in the sand, Liz grinning proudly next to him. _This amazing woman has been putting me in my place for the past fifty years. Thank you for being my best friend--happy birthday Lilibet!_

He and Liz have a history, but it’s never going to be as deep as that, and he resents Nick, resents the hell out of him for being there for Liz when he isn’t, for being their daughter’s godfather, for being someone Liz can trust. He hates him for that.

He wants to hate Liz too. He wants to hate her for all the shit they’ve gone through, for not divorcing Stone when she found out she was pregnant, for… God, for so many things. But he can’t. He loves her--he’s always gonna love her, even if he doesn’t want to any more.

If he’d just stayed with Carolyn none of this would ever have happened. Carolyn was like him in the crucial ways that Liz wasn’t, and with Carolyn there was never this weird social pressure like there is with Liz. He and Carolyn could’ve had kids and they would have been raised like normal people, not like his daughter.

He thinks that, despite everything he and Liz have shared, he might’ve been happier with Carolyn. Yeah, there wouldn’t necessarily have been the days, weeks, of exultant happiness, but there wouldn’t have been the valleys of despair either. All in all, if he had to do it again, he might take the easier road. He and Carolyn… they might have had a good life together. A life with children, children who would know that he was their father, children he could love and take care of and just be there for, unlike Caroline.

And then, all of the sudden, he’s furious again. He closes Instagram and slams his laptop shut. Fuck her, anyway. Fuck her.

 

He leaves the portrait wrapped, in the back of his tiny closet, not wanting to look at it or see it. He starts, systematically, to cut her out of his life. He's already moved out, along with most of his stuff, but now he transfers all the photos he has of her onto a flash drive and adds that to his box of Liz stuff. It's full, so he gets a bigger box, and everything that reminds him of her goes in it. He gets a separate box for stuff from his daughter.

That takes the rest of Saturday. He decides to go out for a drink somewhere, and dinner. After all, Liz isn't sitting home alone. She's going out, having fun. He doesn't need to stick at home, alone.

He does go out, and watches the game at a sports bar near Penn, even flirts a little with the waitress. She’s cute, and he's still got it, and when he pays the bill she slides him the receipt, her cell written on it. He winks at her as he goes and strolls back to his new place, feeling much better.

 

He feels the light pressure of her lips against his and he opens his eyes to see her smiling down at him. He feels himself return her smile instinctively and he pushes himself up in bed. The bedroom looks exactly the way it did when they were together the first time, and her hair is long like it was when they’d been together a year, and she looks so carefree and young.

‘Good morning, darling,’ she says, bending down to kiss him again.

He knows this is a dream--it has to be, he’s sure of it--but even though it’s a dream, he’s still angry. He pushes her away and she frowns, hurt.

‘What is it?’ she asks. ‘Mike--’

‘You disgust me,’ he says, and it’s like the dam has burst open, he finally has the chance to say everything he’s thinking--‘you pretend that you love me and you don’t, you don’t know who the hell I am, you had our daughter and wouldn’t give me a chance to be there, to be her _father_ , you wouldn’t tell her--’

‘Mike!’ she says, tears streaming down her face. ‘Mike--’

‘--and you just--you should have come and told me you were pregnant, you should have told Stone, you should have… you could have…’

She reaches out for him but he pushes her away again, hard, enough that she cries out and he climbs out of the bed, trying to wake up, trying desperately to get out of here.

‘Christ,’ he yells, ‘just get me out of here!’

He hears a telephone ring and he looks around for it--the bed is suddenly empty and the telephone here isn’t ringing, so he opens his eyes and then he’s awake.

He lies in bed for a long moment, breathing heavily. Even though it was a dream, and even though he’s still so angry, he’s never hurt her before like that, never would. And--he can’t believe he allowed himself to do that, even if it was only a dream, and…

He rubs his eyes. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.

His phone beeps, then rings again, and he picks it up and looks at the number. It’s Katy, and he picks up the phone, hoping against hope that she’s forgiven him.

‘Hey, Katy,’ he says, clearing his throat.

‘Mike--’ she begins, her voice tentative, and his heart clenches with a sudden fear. ‘Mike, it’s--’

‘What is it?’ he asks.

‘Liz’s father died this morning.’

He doesn’t know what to say. Nick was… Nick welcomed him into the family when he and Liz first started dating, long before Isobel did, and even though they never really talked too much one-on-one he’d liked him. He swallows and says, ‘what happened?’

‘Uh, Chrissy called me. She said that he and Peter were playing tennis and that Nick just… that it was an aneurysm. No one knew it was there. It was instantaneous.’

‘God,’ he says, running his hand over his eyes.

‘Yeah,’ Katy says. ‘I just saw him on Friday at Liz’s party… he looked great.’ She sighs, then says, ‘um, anyway, Chrissy said that the funeral’s gonna be on Tuesday, she thinks, in Locust Valley. Some church there, St. John’s I think, and then the reception afterward at some place called Inis Fada? Or they think maybe at another place with a funny name…’

Yeah, he’s not going to that, he thinks, then says, ‘thanks for letting me know.’

‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Um, Chrissy told me that Liz was heading up to her parents’ house, then they were goin’ out to Locust Valley on Monday until the funeral. But she’ll have her cell phone. And Caroline’s gonna be with her too.’

‘I’ve gotta go, Katy,’ he says abruptly. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’ He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Oh, God. He can’t believe it. Nick was in great shape, he thought that he was gonna live forever… and his daughter. And his wife. They’ve lost someone that they loved, and hell, he loved Nick too, but there’s no way he can go to that funeral, face Helen… face his wife and his daughter and his mother-in-law. He can’t do that.

But for Nick’s sake… he can’t not go. He should go, pay his respects to someone who always respected him. He can sneak in the back of the church and then leave before anyone else does. That should be all right.

He rolls out of bed. He’s gotta take a shower. Then he can decide what to do next.

 

In the shower the anger drains out of him as though it never existed. Maybe it's because of his dream, getting everything out that he needed to say, or maybe the news of Nick’s death, but he isn't angry any more and, more than that, wants and needs his wife. He's afraid he won't be welcome any more. He'd given her back his wedding ring…

He'll go. He'll try. He can go up to the apartment, anyway. And if she's in Connecticut already… well, he's made the first move.

He takes his time getting dressed--nice navy slacks, white shirt, tweed blazer--because he's not sure whether or not he still wants her to be there. When he can't put things off any longer, he heads to his car and starts driving uptown.

He doesn't park in the building’s garage. He finds a spot on the street and walks up to the building where he's lived for the past decade. All of the sudden, he feels awkward and he just wants to turn around and go back to his new place.

Tony is at the desk and he says, ‘we're all so sorry to hear about Mr. Olivet.’

‘Thanks,’ he replies, grateful. Tony's been working here for nearly forty years, he realizes, so of course he knew Nick and Isobel well. ‘Uh, is my wife still here?’

‘She should be back any minute,’ the doorman tells him. ‘She just took Sadie for a walk.’

‘Ah, okay,’ he says, scuffing his shoe against the marble floor of the lobby. ‘Um--’

‘Here she is,’ Tony interrupts, and he turns to see his wife.

She's been crying--she looks so lost, and before he knows what he's doing he crosses the lobby to her, seeing her stumble in surprise at his presence, and then she's dropped Sadie’s leash and he embraces her, and she hugs him tight, burying her face in his chest.

‘Thank you for coming back,’ she whispers, her words muffled against his shirt.

‘I can’t stay,’ he feels compelled to say, because he can’t, he just can’t--but then she pulls back and looks up at him, total devastation written across her face, and he feels his heart contract with pain.

‘I didn’t bring any clothes,’ he explains, and her expression eases a bit.

‘You have things at Southerly,’ she says. ‘Your nice black suit, for one, and I’m sure Daddy has a tie you can borrow--’ she cuts herself off and runs a hand over her eyes, remembering.

‘Okay,’ he says, wanting to make her feel better. ‘All right. Um, you ready to go?’

‘I just have to get my things and Sadie’s,’ she says.

‘I’ll bring the car around,’ he tells her, and she drops her hand, stepping forward to hug him.

‘Thank you.’

 

He brings the car around and parks it in front of the building. He climbs out and closes the door, leaning against it while he waits for her. She doesn’t take long--he’s always liked that about her--and seven minutes later she comes out of the front door, Sadie on her leash, carrying her purse. Tony follows her, carrying her leather duffle bag and a large LL Bean tote. He stands straight, then walks around the car and opens the trunk. Tony puts the bags in the trunk, while Liz opens the back door and lets Sadie inside. She unclips her leash and Sadie lies down on the seat, resting her head on her paws. Liz closes the door, thanks Tony, and walks around to the passenger seat. He and Tony exchange a nod, then he opens his door and slides into the driver’s seat. He closes the door, turns on the car, and starts to drive.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road and she doesn’t look at him either. He merges into traffic, heading over to the FDR, and they don’t talk until they get onto 95.

‘I’m sorry. About your dad,’ he clarifies, when she looks over at him.

‘Thank you,’ she says, her voice tight with grief. She looks away again, and says, ‘He loved you, you know.’

He is choked up, suddenly, and doesn’t know how to respond. They are silent again.

‘Where’s Caroline?’ he asks at last.

‘She’s driving up this evening with Peter and Miranda,’ she says. ‘They’re handling the arrangements.’

‘What’s the plan?’ he asks.

She recites, ‘service at St. John’s of Lattingtown at one. Burial at the Locust Valley Cemetery--family only. Reception at Seawanhaka. The wake tomorrow at Inis Fada.’

At least most of it’s not at the house, he thinks, then asks, ‘Why is he getting buried in Locust Valley? Why not Darien?’

She shakes her head slowly. ‘Something my parents decided when they got married. They’d live in Connecticut but be buried in Locust Valley. My father loved it there.’

‘Ah,’ he says, but then he thinks--what about them? Where are they going to be buried? Are they even gonna be buried together? His parents were both cremated. He thought he wanted that too, but…

He glances over at her. She’s closed her eyes and her head is resting against the headrest. She looks so, so tired. He looks back to the road--they’re approaching the exit--and as he merges into the right lane he hears her breathing deepen. She’s asleep.

He drives the familiar roads to Contentment Island. He’s done this trip hundreds of times now and each time he does he remembers his first visit here, for Christmas, taking the train up the first year he and Liz started dating. He remembers her picking him up from the station, the odd nervousness he felt as they turned onto the road leading to the house. Avenue fever, she called it, and it starts up again as he turns onto Contentment Island Road. His gut is twisting with guilt and fear and he just wants to stop the car and run back to Manhattan. The last thing he wants is to be here. He turns onto the gravel driveway and rounds the corner, seeing the house and the expanse of water behind it. He pulls up next to Isobel’s Mercedes and turns off the car, then looks at Sadie, sitting patiently in the backseat, and Liz, who is still asleep.

His wife. His beautiful wife. His loving and beloved wife, despite it all, because he does love her.

When they got married he’d thought, finally, it was all over--the running away, the anger, the fighting. Obviously he was wrong, because the past three weeks have been a nightmare, and… and that is his fault.

When they got back together the last time, when they’d gone to England and Scotland, they’d agreed to put the past beside and stop blaming each other… he should have remembered that. And she should have, too. But they’ve done that once before, and they can do it again, if he wants to.

Does he?

He could go back to their life, which is a happy if sometimes claustrophobic one--or he can go back to his empty apartment, his empty life, without her. He can have his family or he can lose them forever.

But it’s not that easy. Even if they reconcile, he’s pretty damn sure that the rest of her family isn’t going to be talking to him for a while, if ever. And her family is a huge part of their lives.

He hears Liz sigh and turns to see her open her eyes. She looks disoriented for a moment before she remembers what’s happened, and she lifts a hand to rub her eyes.

‘Thank you for coming back, Mike,’ his wife whispers, lowering her hand to look at him. ‘I don't know how I'll be able to get through this, but as long as you're here…’

‘I don't think it's a good idea for me to be here,’ he tells her. ‘I mean, Helen--’

‘We found out yesterday that she's eloped with her latest paramour. He's some sort of anthropologist and he works in the South Pacific. She left last week, so she won't be back for the funeral.’

He nods slowly.

She continues, ‘and Mike--I know you didn't sleep with--’ her voice cracks and she falters. ‘I need you,’ she says at last. ‘I love you.’

They look at each other for an endless moment. He sees her pain, her sorrow, and her need for him. He doesn't know what she sees, because he has no idea what he's feeling, but she reaches out and lays her hand on his. After another aching minute, he turns his hand over and grasps hers. She leans forward and hugs him, and he hugs her back, and they sit like that for a long time, holding each other close.

 

They eventually break apart and he collects her bags from the trunk while she gets Sadie. They climb the steps to the house and Liz opens the door, calling out for her mother. There's no response and she turns to look at him.

‘I'm going to find her,’ she says, and he nods.

‘I'll bring the stuff upstairs.’

She heads down the hallway and he watches her go, hoping that he can make everything right. He goes upstairs and unpacks her things, wanting to take his time, to give them space. He freshens up and then heads back downstairs.

He can hear voices down the hall and he sees that Nick’s study door is open. He heads there and hovers in the doorway. Liz and Isobel are on opposite sides of the leather sofa. Looking at his mother-in-law, he’s reminded of the first time they met, how cool and collected she was. Right now, she looks lost, bereft, without her husband who was so clearly her anchor all these years. He raps gently on the doorframe and Isobel and Liz look up at him.

‘Michael,’ Isobel says, her usually smooth voice strained from crying. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly.’

‘Sure,’ he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ‘I’m so sorry, Isobel.’

‘Thank you,’ she says, and ushers him in to take a seat. He perches in one of the armchairs facing the sofa. ‘I still can’t believe it, even though I saw him fall… I’d just gone down to bring them coffee.’

He doesn’t know what to say. Liz squeezes her mother’s hand.

‘Peter and Miranda will be here soon, with Caroline,’ Liz tells her mother. ‘And then we can decide what to do next.’

Isobel sighs. ‘I’m grateful for them handling everything. I feel like I should be doing something--’ she breaks off and covers her eyes with her hand. ‘I just--can’t.’

Liz leans forward and wraps her arms around her mother and he watches, feeling like he’s eavesdropping on their grief. He’d cared about Nick--of course he did, he was his father-in-law, but this--

Isobel pulls back and apologizes, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. ‘I think I just want to go to sleep,’ she admits, looking at her daughter. ‘Can you handle things, Liz?’

‘Of course,’ his wife replies. ‘D’you want me to call Dr. Cunningham for some sleeping pills?’

Isobel shakes her head. ‘No, I have a prescription--I’m just going to take one.’

‘All right, Mummy,’ Liz says, and hugs her. ‘Please call if you need anything. We’ll be here.’

Isobel nods and stands up. She looks so old, all of the sudden, and she summons up a smile as she passes him, heading up to her bedroom. They listen to her footsteps above them and when they hear Isobel’s door close Liz looks at him.

‘Can I help?’ he asks.

She sighs. ‘Miranda and Peter are taking care of the funeral home and the church. Caroline is calling the club to organize the reception. Chrissy is letting people know. I have to draft an obituary and send it to the Times, and the local paper here, and the North Shore Leader. How am I supposed to describe my father in only a few words?’

‘He was a good man,’ he offers, and Liz nods solemnly.

‘And such a wonderful father. I’m so glad I had him for so many years.’

‘I'm glad he was my father-in-law,’ he says, because it's true--he is. Nick was a kind, thoughtful, gentle man. Someone who always put others first. The only real time they'd spent together was when Nick taught him how to sail in the year between their engagement and wedding, but that time was valuable to him then and especially now. Nick was a good teacher, very patient, and at the end of the year, even though they didn't converse about much besides sailing, they knew each other better.

Liz says again, ‘he really loved you.’ Her lower lip begins to tremble and he stands, reaching out for her unthinkingly, and she stands and steps into his arms. ‘I thought he’d live forever,’ she mumbles against his shirt. ‘Oh, Mike, I thought he’d be here forever.’

‘I know,’ he says into her hair.

He can tell she wants to cry, but she rubs her face against his chest and then pulls back to look up at him. ‘I have to write this obituary and send it in by four,’ she tells him. ‘What time is it?’

He looks over the top of her head at the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘One thirty.’ God, this day has lasted forever…

‘I need to get started. Can you look through the photo albums, please, and find a good one of Daddy? The local papers will run it, and the Times will on the website…’

‘Sure,’ he says, glad he can do something at least. ‘I’ll meet you in the library.’

She nods and then buries her face against his chest again. ‘I missed you so much,’ she says. ‘Oh, God, Mike, I missed you so much.’

He kisses the top of her head and doesn’t say anything. He can’t, not without sobbing, and she doesn’t need that now. She nods and pulls back and says, ‘I’ll meet you in the library.’

‘Okay,’ he says at last, and she walks out of the study to collect her laptop.

 

They are settled in the library comfortably. Isobel is sleeping upstairs, and Caroline has texted to say they’ll be at Southerly by dinner, and Nina has come in and brought lunch. Liz has barely touched her sandwich, focused on the obituary, and at three o’clock she looks up at him.

‘Can I read this to you, so that you can let me know what you think?’ she asks him, and he pauses in his perusal of the photo albums and nods.

‘Nicholas Pratt Olivet died at home in Darien, Connecticut on September 24th. He was 85. The cause was an aneurysm.

‘Nicholas Olivet was born in Lattingtown, New York, on February 3rd, 1932. Mr. Olivet was the son of George Whitney Olivet and the former Margaret Wisner Pratt, a daughter of Charles Pratt of Standard Oil. Mr. Olivet was the President of the New York Trust Bank, which was founded by his paternal grandfather. He attended the Green Vale School, Deerfield Academy, and graduated from Yale in 1953. He and his wife, the former Isobel Van Schuyler Griswold, married on July 4, 1953.

‘Mr. Olivet was an avid outdoorsman who enjoyed playing tennis, squash, and paddle tennis. He was a passionate sailor. Mr. Olivet is survived by his wife Isobel, his daughter, Elizabeth Olivet and her husband, Michael Logan, and his granddaughter, Caroline, as well as his sister, Janet, and his nieces and nephews.’ She looks up at him when she finishes. ‘Is that all right?’

‘That sounds good,’ he tells her, touched that she included him.

‘Okay,’ she says, and saves the documents. ‘Do you have a photo?’

‘I have three options,’ he says, and she sets her computer down and comes to sit next to him. He pulls the photo albums forward and turns to the marked pages. She looks at them carefully and selects the second option, a picture of Nick on the _Selkie_ , smiling.

‘This is how I want to remember him,’ she says softly.

He nods. ‘Me, too.’

She reaches out and squeezes his knee. ‘I’m going to go scan this, then check on my mother. Will you be all right?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I’m going to take the dogs out, okay?’

‘Thank you,’ his wife says, and touches his shoulder lightly before picking up her laptop and the photograph and heading back to her father’s study. A minute or so after she goes, he whistles for the dogs, and they come running--Sadie, then Nick and Isobel’s two golden retrievers, Tracy and Dext.

‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he tells them, and they follow him out the front door.

 

As they walk around the property he thinks about what’s going to happen next. He’s grateful that she hasn’t wanted to talk about what happened yet, and still floored that she knows that he didn’t sleep with that woman. Thank God. She obviously wants a reconciliation. She wants him to stay. And he wants to, now, too. Because--God, he can’t lose her, he’s lost her too many times before… and he can actually see a way forward because she still wants him in her life.

He’s gonna have to make things up with Chrissy and Teddy, but--he can do that. He knows he can. And then his daughter… he hopes they can find a way to build a new relationship.

He hopes that Liz takes this time to call Caroline and tell her that he’s back. He doesn’t want to surprise her, and he knows she would be if she doesn’t have fair warning.

They reach the water and the dogs stand at the edge of the waves lapping the shore. He’s spent so much of his life here… he can’t believe he almost fucked up again, almost lost his wife, and for nothing. Because--they’ve had a happy life. And even if he does want them to find their own place, not live in the apartment where she grew up, it’s a beautiful home and it’s comfortable. And they’ll be able to find their own place soon.

He feels awful for Isobel. Even if they haven’t always gotten along, they’d managed to find common ground eventually. He remembers asking them to join him for lunch, when he wanted to propose to Liz, and how thrilled Isobel had been. She’d grinned and knocked over her glass of wine when she jumped up to hug him. She’d been thrilled. Nick, too, in his own quiet way.

When his parents died… God, when his mother died, it had been a relief. And when his father died, two years after he and Liz had broken up, just before that case… that was more complicated. He’d loved his father, but their relationship had been difficult, and while in one way it was a relief not to struggle with him any more, he was sad to have lost him, too. But Liz--she’d always had a good relationship with her father, and almost always with her mother… what was she going to do?

Well, he could be there for her. Support her, love her… what he promised to do when they married. And--he wants to do that. He wants to be there for her because he loves her. So what he’ll do--he’ll go back to the house, and apologize, and hold her tight, and reassure her that she means the world to him.

He whistles for the dogs and they bound up beside him as they make their way back to the house.

 

He finds her in their room, lying down. He sits down next to her, the bed sagging under his weight, and she opens her eyes.

‘I'm sorry,’ she says quietly. ‘For doubting you.’

He reaches out and touches her hand lightly. ‘No, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lizzie…’

She turns her hand and grasps his, squeezing it. ‘Thank you,’ she tells him. ‘I hope you can forgive me.’

He nods. ‘Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course,’ she says, and squeezes his hand again. ‘Can you hold me, please?’

‘Yeah,’ he says softly, and lies down next to her, taking her into his arms. Her back rests against his chest and he buries his face in her hair. She rests her hands on top of his and sighs, the tension finally draining out of her body.

‘I love you,’ she whispers.

‘I love you too.’


	29. Chapter 29

She and Lucas spend a lazy night together after her mother’s birthday party, then wake up early when the sun comes streaming through the bedroom windows. She has to go collect her things from home, so they make coffee and take a walk up the river before cutting over on 76th Street, reaching her building at 9:00. They greet Tony and head up in the elevator. She knocks before unlocking the door, and they are greeted by her mother.

‘Darlings, hello,’ she says, hugging them both. ‘I didn’t expect to see you so early. Would you like coffee or breakfast?’

‘Coffee would be wonderful,’ she says, because she’s only had a cup and she needs it.

‘I’ll make some fresh. Why don’t you both go into the living room?’

‘Can I help, Liz?’ Lucas offers, and Mom shakes her head.

‘No, but thank you. I’ll be in in a minute.’

‘All right,’ Lucas says, and she takes his hand, leading him to the living room. She settles down on the sofa and he prowls around, peering down at the photographs, pausing at one in particular.

‘Which one captured your attention?’ she asks him, and he straightens up and smiles at her.

‘One of you with your mother and grandmother. Really, the resemblance between you three is startling.’

She smiles. ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? There’s this picture I have, I don’t think you’ve seen it, of Peter and Miranda and my grandparents on the beach at Gin Lane, just when they bought it, and it’s winter and they’re opening a bottle of champagne. And looking at that picture--it could be me, or my mother.’

‘I don’t think I have seen that one. Do you have it here?’

‘Yes, it’s in my room,’ she says, standing up from the sofa. ‘I’ll get it.’

As she heads into the hallway, the apartment phone rings.

‘Can you get that, please, Caroline?’ her mother calls from the kitchen, and she goes to pick it up.

‘Yes?’

‘Hi, Miss Caroline,’ Tony says. ‘Ms. Darby is on her way up.’

‘Thanks, Tony,’ she says, and hangs up. ‘Miranda’s coming up, Mom,’ she calls.

Her mother sticks her head out of the kitchen. ‘Did they say why?’

She shrugs. ‘She’ll be here in a second, I guess.’ The doorbell rings. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘I’ll bring the coffee out in a second,’ her mother says, and disappears back into the kitchen.

She goes to the front door and opens it. ‘Hi, Miranda!’

‘Oh, darling, good, you’re here,’ Miranda says, hugging her. ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘Just getting coffee. Lucas is here with me--’

‘I need to talk to you and your mother,’ Miranda interrupts her. ‘Alone. In her room, I suppose, if Lucas is here--’

‘Mom’s in the kitchen, so--’

‘Fine,’ Miranda says, and heads down the hallway to the kitchen. She hurries to catch up with her and sticks her head in the living room to tell Lucas she’ll just be a minute.

‘Take your time,’ he tells her, smiling, and she smiles back before joining her mother and Miranda in the kitchen.

‘Close the door, Caroline,’ Miranda instructs her, and she does as she’s told, somewhat surprised by Miranda’s abrupt tone. She’s always been a softer person than this--‘and sit down,’ she finishes, and she does that too.

‘What’s wrong?’ Mom asks, leaning against the counter.

‘Peter was up at Southerly this weekend, as you know,’ Miranda begins, looking at Mom. ‘And he and Nick were playing tennis this morning.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry, Liz, when they were playing--Nick collapsed, he died immediately. This happened around seven thirty. It was instantaneous. The doctor said it was an aneurysm.’

She hears Miranda’s words but doesn’t take them in, not until all the color drains from her mother’s face.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Miranda says, glancing at the two of them. ‘Oh, Caroline, oh, Liz--’

‘We will need to get to the house as soon as possible,’ Mom says, her voice wooden. ‘And make arrangements--Mummy can’t--and--’

‘Peter and I can take care of that,’ Miranda tells her. ‘We know what he wanted.’

Her mother’s lower lip trembles and she nods, her voice thick with suppressed tears as she says, ‘Oh, God, Miranda--how are we going to live without him?’

Miranda stands and crosses the room to her mother, and they embrace and cry together, comforting each other.

 _Dead_ , she thinks, _my grandfather is dead. But how can he be dead? I just saw him yesterday…_

And suddenly she’s assailed with memories--curling up on the chesterfield in his study, the fire crackling, a scratchy wool blanket over her. Held tight in his arms as he taught her to sail. Listening to him read her a story when she was ill. Living with them for the summer her mother separated from Ben, having him tuck her in every night. He told her, every night, that he loved her and that she was the most wonderful thing in their world.

‘I’ll help with the arrangements,’ she says, and her mother and Miranda turn to look at her. ‘I can make calls, that sort of thing.’

‘Are you sure?’ Miranda asks, sniffling, wiping away tears. ‘He wants to be buried in Locust Valley, Peter is coming down now and we're going out--’

‘Yes,’ she says. She hasn’t started to cry yet--she doesn’t know when she will, but she feels the tears waiting. ‘I want to help. Lucas can too.’

‘Thank you,’ Miranda tells her, and she looks at her mother, who is trying and failing to stop crying.

‘I bet Aunt Chrissy will help,’ she says, looking back at Miranda. ‘I’ll call her now, after I tell Lucas.’

‘Good idea,’ Miranda says, and she stands, tentatively walking over to her mother.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she tells them both, and her mother reaches out to hug her.

 

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. She tells Lucas, who holds her tight, then excuses herself to call Aunt Chrissy. She is devastated and, after thinking carefully, she asks her aunt to call Katy as well. 

‘And ask her to call Mike, please,’ she says. ‘Mom really needs him.’

‘I will,’ Chrissy promises, and hangs up. 

Next she packs quickly and then the three of them head down to Beekman Place. Miranda drops them at Lucas's to pack for him, and afterwards they head to Miranda and Peter’s, two blocks away. Peter arrived a few minutes before them, and a half hour later they are on the way. 

As they drive to Locust Valley, Miranda updates them all. She’s spoken with Mom again, who has spoken with Aunt Janet. They’ve agreed to have the reception after the funeral service at Seawanhaka, so Miranda has made an appointment for them to go meet with the staff there to organize it. Peter will drop them there, then go to the church and meet with the rector, then he will go to the cemetery. After, he will collect them and they’ll drive up to Southerly.

They get stuck in traffic. She sends emails to her professors on her phone, then texts her roommates and Annie. They all text her back immediately, telling her how sorry they are. That done, she sets her phone down and looks at Lucas. He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it, and she squeezes back, grateful that he’s here even though he’ll have to go back to the city early in the morning for work.

‘Are we going to stay at Inis Fada?’ she asks Peter and Miranda. ‘Or at the club?’

‘Your mother said that Janet’s in a complete state--both because of your grandfather--’ Miranda’s voice cracks, and she clears her throat quickly, ‘and because your Aunt Helen has eloped to whatever South Pacific island her new husband’s living on.’ She catches Miranda’s glance in the mirror, sees her wavering smile. ‘Please don’t you two elope.’

Lucas chuckles. ‘I promise that we won’t.’

She smiles too, a bit, because--well, this weekend, they’ve talked about the future, about their lives together, and… she’s so excited. She wants time to speed up, wants to be finished with college so they can get married. But there’s plenty of time.

‘So I think it’s best if we all stay at the club,’ Miranda finishes. ‘There should be enough room for us.’

She looks up at the ceiling of the car as she counts the rooms available, and frowns. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It should be fine,’ Peter says. ‘Anyway, Janet can put a few people up in the carriage house, especially as Helen’s left.’

She nods and Peter pulls off the LIE onto their exit.

 

He drops them off at the club and she climbs out, looking up at the grey shingled building. It reminds her a bit of Southerly--the same sort of look--and it’s familiar because of that, but also because she’s been coming here since she was small. It’s a very unpretentious sort of place, and she loves it here.

Miranda kisses Peter goodbye, then she does, and he drives off. They all take a deep breath before Miranda leads the way inside.

In the manager’s office, she can’t focus on what the manager is saying. Miranda makes the decisions and she looks around the office. Lucas is downstairs on the veranda, and they’ll join him for lunch once everything’s decided… God, she's so glad he's here. And not just now, but here… she doesn't want to be without him. Is this how her grandparents felt, after they first met? They'd met when they were her age, she knows, at the Harvard-Yale game. And they'd been together ever since. They loved each other, were in love with each other, even after so many years together. They'd been lucky, but how must her grandmother be feeling now, bereft and lost and alone… 

The meeting must be over, she realizes, as Miranda stands up, and shakes the manager’s hand.

‘Thank you,’ she tells her, and she shakes her hand as well. 

‘We’re so sorry for your loss,’ she replies. ‘Mr. Olivet was a wonderful man.’

‘Thank you.’

 

Miranda leads the way downstairs. Lucas is still on the veranda, writing in a notebook, and he looks up when they step outside.

‘How did it go?’ he asks.

‘Well enough,’ Miranda says. ‘I’m estimating a hundred guests--family alone will be almost forty, so…’ she runs a hand through her silver hair. ‘I just can’t believe we’re planning this. I’ve known Nick since we were all eighteen. He and Isobel are our dearest friends. I almost thought that we’d all go together. I can’t imagine life without him.’

She puts her arm around Miranda’s shoulders and Miranda shakes her head.

‘I’m being silly. It’s time now to remember the good times. And we’ll all need to be strong for Isobel… and part of that involves keeping up our strength. So let’s eat, and let’s have a stiff Southside. Peter’s driving, so I think we can make them Race Committee Southsides.’

‘What’s that?’ Lucas asks.

She explains, ‘Southsides are made with Mount Gay rum mixed with sweet and sour mix and club soda and lots of mint.’

‘Sounds delicious,’ Lucas says.

‘They are, and very potent. Miranda, we can collect them from the bar.’

‘Thanks, darlings. I'll get a table, see if we can eat out here.’

‘All right.’

She leads Lucas back across the room the the bar, just next to the front door. The club is fairly empty today, and only the bartender is there, polishing glasses. He looks up as they enter.

‘Hello, Miss Olivet,’ he says. ‘We’re so sorry to hear about your grandfather.’

‘Thank you, Al,’ she says. ‘Could we please have three Race Committee Southsides?’

He sets aside his cloth and starts to make the drinks. She selects a blank chit sheet from the pile on the bar and fills it out, then signs her mother’s name and number. She puts it in the correct spot and accepts her drink, then hears the front door slam and sees Peter walk into the bar. He looks exhausted.

‘I need a drink,’ he announces, running his hand through his cropped grey hair.

‘Why don’t I drive up to Connecticut?’ Lucas offers.

Peter and Lucas regard each other closely, and Peter accepts his offer. ‘Thanks. That would be good.’

Lucas offers Peter his untouched Southside and Peter stirs it, then takes a big sip. ‘That’s better,’ he says. ‘Where’s Miranda?’

‘On the porch,’ she tells him.

‘Let’s go, then,’ Peter says, and walks out of the bar before they can say anything else.

She and Lucas exchange a glance. ‘Would you like something else to drink?’ she asks.

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll have some mineral water with lunch.’

‘All right,’ she replies, and takes his hand, and they walk out to the porch.

 

Over lunch, Peter tells them what had so rattled him.

‘I arrived at the church and Janet was already there, having buttonholed the rector in his office, insisting on all sorts of things that Nick absolutely would not have wanted. Like the church choir singing hymns, and a round robin of people giving the eulogy--’ he shudders and takes another sip of his drink. ‘And then she wanted anyone who wanted to to come to the graveyard and… well, anyway, I had Nick’s handwritten instructions, so she couldn’t argue with that. Family only at the graveyard. No choir, no pomp and circumstance. I’ll give the eulogy.’

She nods. ‘I’m sorry you had to deal with her, Peter,’ she says.

‘Me too. My God, they barely even saw each other, how on earth does she think that she knows his wishes better than I do?’

Miranda rests her hand on top of his and he turns to look at her. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she tells him. ‘I’ve made it clear to everyone here that the only people they should talk to are us, Liz, or Isobel.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ Peter says, and then looks at her and Lucas. ‘I’m sorry, you two.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ she tells Peter. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.

He smiles sadly at her. ‘We met our first day at Deerfield, you know. We were roommates and best friends almost immediately. I just can’t believe--’ He stops abruptly and lets go of Miranda’s hand to bury his head in his hands.

‘I know, darling,’ Miranda says. ‘I know.’

 

Lunch is sad but delicious. While Miranda and Peter settle up, she excuses herself for a moment to call her mother. Mom picks up right away.

‘Hello, darling,’ she says, her voice rough from crying.

‘Hi, Mom. We’re just leaving the club now, everything’s organized. Where are you?’

‘Good,’ her mother says, and she sounds so far away even though, by water, she’s only about fourteen miles away. She just wants to be there with her now… ‘We’re at the house. Um… Mike drove me up, he’s still here.’

‘Good,’ she says firmly, relieved that he’s finally, finally done the right thing. ‘Well, we’re going to leave in a minute and then we’ll be on our way.’ She checks her watch--it’s almost four. ‘We’ll be home for dinner.’

‘All right,’ her mother says. ‘Drive safely. I love you.’

‘I love you,’ she says, and hangs up. She stays outside for a minute, looking at the water, acknowledging how strange it is to be here without her mother or her grandparents. And how heartbreaking it is to know her grandfather is gone forever.

‘Caroline!’

Lucas is calling her--she turns and shades her eyes, seeing him on the porch waving to her.

‘Coming!’ she calls back, crossing the lawn.

 

They hit quite a lot of traffic leaving the Island--well, it is a Sunday night, she realizes. Despite that, Lucas remains calm and in control, navigating easily thanks to Peter’s clear directions. When they finally reach Connecticut, and turn off onto Contentment Island Road, it’s six-thirty. She can see Lucas’s hand tapping the steering wheel and she realizes that he’s never been here before. She’s also never seen him discomfited enough to physically express it.

‘Avenue fever,’ Peter says by way of explanation. ‘That’s what Isobel’s grandparents always called it, and it is true.’

She feels it wash over her herself, her heart thumping with dread. She doesn’t want to be here, at her grandparents’ house, without her grandfather… 

Lucas turns onto the gravelled drive at Peter’s direction, and then, a minute or so later, the house comes into view. Mike’s car is still here, she notes with relief, and Lucas parks next to it.

‘Here we are,’ she says, and her voice sounds insubstantial. ‘Southerly.’

 

It feels strange to know that there is no one to meet them. They all get out of the car and no one in particular wants to lead the way. Finally, she does, walking up the steps and opening the front door.

‘Hello,’ she calls, and for some reason the house still smells the same… of course it does, she thinks, it just happened… and then her mother descends the stairs.

‘Hi, darling,’ her mother says, and then Miranda, Peter, and Lucas are behind her. ‘Hello,’ she says to everyone else, and then her mother hugs her quickly, then embraces Peter and Miranda, who hold her tight.

‘Where’s Isobel?’ Peter asks.

‘Upstairs. She had a light dinner about an hour ago, then she went to sleep.’ Miranda and Peter release her. ‘Um, she has a sleeping pill prescription from Dr. Cunningham. She asked for a pill, so I gave her half, and I took the bottle with me.’

‘Good,’ Peter says. ‘Thank you, Liz.’

‘Where’s Mike?’ she asks.

‘He’s in the kitchen, cooking. Nina’s up with Mummy.’

‘I’m going to go see him,’ she says, and darts off through the house, leaving Lucas, Peter, Miranda, and her mother in the hallway.

Mike is at the oven, pulling baked potatoes out, and he looks up as the kitchen door swings shut behind her. They look at each other for a moment, then Mike sets the potatoes down on a trivet on the counter, turns off the oven, and looks at her again.

‘Hi,’ she offers at last.

‘Hey,’ he says, leaning against the counter. ‘I’m sorry about Nick, Caroline.’

‘Thanks,’ she replies, stilted. ‘Um, thanks for coming back, Mike.’

He runs a hand over his eyes. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry about that, too.’

‘Okay,’ she says. They fall silent and she looks around the kitchen--he’s made steak, asparagus, a Caesar salad, and baked potatoes. ‘Dinner looks good.’

‘Yeah, it’ll be ready in a minute. D’you want to get everyone?’ he suggests.

‘Sure,’ she says, and leaves the kitchen.

Everyone is in the drawing room. She clears her throat and says, ‘Dinner’s just about ready.’

‘Thanks, darling,’ her mother says. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

She looks around--Peter has a scotch, Miranda and her mother martinis, and Lucas has a glass of red wine.

‘Wine would be great, thanks,’ she says. ‘I’ll get it.’

She pours her wine. The room is silent--what can they talk about anyway? She she turns around from the bar and looks at them.

Mom says, ‘should we go in the dining room?’

‘Sure,’ she says, and everyone stands.

‘I’m going to help Mike,’ Mom says, and disappears while the rest of them make their way to the dining room.

They take their usual seats, leaving the head of the table and the foot of the table empty. Miranda and Peter sit at either side of her grandfather’s chair, then she’s next to Miranda and Lucas is next to her. Mom and Mike will sit next to Peter, across from her.

They enter a few minutes later, carrying platters of food. The table has already been set, and they help themselves to food. As Mike and Mom take their seats, she watches her mother lightly touch Mike’s shoulder… but he doesn’t reciprocate, and her heart sinks. 

They all eat mechanically. They share the arrangements that have been made, but they talk about nothing else. She is suddenly, completely, exhausted and she pushes her plate aside, her dinner half-finished.

‘Everything okay?’ her mother asks, noticing at once.

‘I’m just tired,’ she admits, her statement punctuated by a yawn.

‘Why don’t you go up to sleep, then, darling? I’ll clean up.’

She nods and looks at Lucas. ‘Are you finished?’

‘Yes. I can help clean up, though--’

‘No, don’t worry,’ Mom interrupts. ‘You both have done so much.’

‘If you don’t mind, Liz, we’ll retire too,’ Peter says, standing up. Miranda is a beat behind him. ‘Thank you, Mike, for dinner.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she echoes. Miranda offers him a smile and Lucas thanks him as well.

‘Good night,’ her mother says, standing to hug each of them.

‘Good night,’ they reply, and she hugs her mother extra tightly.

‘I love you,’ Mom whispers.

‘I love you, too,’ she says, and follows Lucas out to the stairs.

She supposes they'll be staying in her room, so she leads the way down the hall, opening the door. It's decorated similarly to her room at home, but much larger, and she thumps her overnight bag down on the bench at the foot of the bed. 

‘It's a lovely room,’ Lucas says. ‘And a lovely house.’

‘I'm sorry your first visit here is under such sad circumstances, though,’ she apologies, stepping into his arms for a hug. ‘But I'm glad you're here.’

‘Of course, darling,’ he tells her. ‘I'm sorry I have to go into work tomorrow.’

‘Me too,’ she says. ‘I'll drive you to the station in the morning, though. And then can you come out to Locust Valley tomorrow after work?’

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘But you'll have to explain the trains to me.’

She smiles. ‘I'll email you the train to take. The 6:16 is a direct train to Locust Valley. Or I suppose you can take it all the way out to Oyster Bay, as we’ll be at the club… whatever, we can figure it out tomorrow.’

‘Are you all right?’ he asks her softly. ‘You seems a bit… dérangée.’

‘I suppose I am, a bit,’ she admits, and takes a deep breath. ‘Well, I'll take a bath and then we can go to bed and everything will be better in the morning.’

‘Good,’ he tells her. ‘Do you mind if I shower quickly, first?’

‘Of course not. I'll go get some water for us,’ she says, and they embrace briefly before she heads down to the kitchen.

She steps quietly as she nears the kitchen. She can hear the water running, the clink of dishes as they are washed, but no conversation. She pokes her head through the open door and sees her mother, standing at the sink, washing dishes, alone. She raps lightly on the door and her mother turns and smiles.

‘I’m just getting some water,’ she explains. ‘I’m assuming it’s all right that Lucas is with me in my room?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Mom replies with a small smile, ‘I’m not as old-fashioned as my parents.’ 

She nods and makes her way to the cabinet, collecting two glasses and filling them up from the fridge.

‘Lucas has to work tomorrow. Can I borrow the wagon to take him to the station?’

‘Of course,’ her mother says again, and places the last dish in the dishrack. She drains the sink and washes her hands. ‘Will he be coming out to the Island tomorrow night?’

‘Yes, I’ll give him the train time,’ she says, setting the glasses down on the counter. ‘Are we all staying at the club?’

‘Yes. Your grandmother, Miranda, and Peter will share the suite. Mike and I will have the room with the private bathroom. You and Lucas in one room, and then I suppose Teddy and Chrissy in another, and Eliza and Kip… Chrissy’s figuring it out. Any overflow can stay at that hotel in Glen Cove, or the bed and breakfast in East Norwich.’

‘All right,’ she says. ‘Thanks, Mom, for doing all of this.’

She shakes her head as she dries her hands. ‘I’ve barely done anything. You and Lucas and Miranda and Peter… even Chrissy has done more than I have.’

‘I’m glad I could help. I was thinking--Peter said he’s doing the eulogy, but who will do the readings?’

‘I will,’ Mom says, ‘and you, if you can. And I thought Mike, too, if he wanted to do one. Otherwise we can ask Miranda. Janet has made it clear she doesn’t feel up to doing anything.’

They both sigh, sharing the annoyance of her grandfather’s sister’s whims.

‘Where is Mike now?’ she asks, and then the back door opens and the dogs come rushing in, Mike following them.

‘All right, they’re all set,’ Mike says to her mother, then stops when he sees her. ‘Hey, Caroline.’

‘I was just getting some water,’ she explains. ‘I should go. Good night.’

‘Good night, darling,’ her mother says.

‘Good night, Caroline,’ her father echoes. She nods and then makes her way back up to her room.

Lucas is out of the shower and in bed, under the covers. He’s reading a book--her ancient copy of Swallows and Amazons, she notices, and smiles--and he looks up at her as she sets his water down on his bedside table.

‘What time should we leave in the morning?’ he asks.

‘There’s a train at 7:23,’ she tells him. ‘So we should leave here at seven.’

‘All right, I’ll set an alarm.’

‘I’m going to take a bath,’ she says, and bends down to kiss him. ‘I love you. Thank you for being here.’

‘I love you too, my darling,’ he says, setting down the book to stroke her hair briefly. ‘I love you so much.’

She goes into the bathroom and draws the bath, making it as hot as she can stand. The bath is against the wall that faces into her mother’s bathroom, and she realizes she can hear her speaking.

‘...Caroline will be doing a reading, and I will, and I wondered if you wanted to as well.’

‘...know that it’s appropriate,’ Mike says. ‘After all, Miranda was closer to him than I was.’

‘All right,’ her mother says. ‘That’s fine.’

She hears the sinks turn on and presumably they’re brushing their teeth. When the water turns off, her mother says, ‘I hope you’re staying here tonight. With me.’ Even through the bathroom wall she can hear how unsure she is and her heart aches. She stays perfectly still so she doesn't miss Mike’s response.

But there isn’t a response, not for a long time, and she wonders if he’s just nodded or shook his head, and then he says, ‘If you want me to.’

‘Mike, of course I do,’ her mother says. ‘I need you. I love you.’

‘I don’t know how you can,’ he says.

‘You’re my husband,’ Mom says. ‘We’ve gone through worse than this, Mike--I’ll always love you.’

There isn’t another response, and after a long time she gets out of the bath, pulling the plug. She hopes that she didn’t hear anything else because they embraced, because they kissed… but she can’t help but think that Mike should have told her mother that he loves her.

She dries off, hangs the towel on the heated towel rack, and goes back into her room. Lucas is asleep, and she leans over and turns off his light before burrowing under the covers next to him and turning off her own. She closes her eyes and lets herself drift off to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

She is lying in bed, her husband at her side. She had wished for this; she had prayed for this. But although he's here he isn't, really. They've barely touched. They haven't kissed. He's barely spoken to her. She doesn't know that she wants to know where he's been... but he's barely said anything. Even now, with him asleep, he hasn't rolled over in bed to wrap his arms around her, as he's always done. He is firmly on his side of the bed, facing away from her, and she's lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling. 

She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to cry, to sob--for her father, for her mother, for herself, and for them--but she can’t right now.

She thought they were done fighting. After all these years of separation, and anger, and loss, they’d found their way back to each other. And they had a chance to be a family, a real family… 

When she saw him in their lobby her heart had stopped. She was so glad to see him, so surprised… then he said he couldn't stay, and she thinks that his quick addition of not having clothes was just an excuse. When she went upstairs to collect her clothes and Sadie’s things, she’d honestly believed he wouldn’t be there when she came back. But he was, and he’d driven her up to Southerly, and now here they are--in bed together but so far apart.

Is her mother feeling this lonely now? She closes her eyes and pictures her mother lying alone in the bed she shared with her husband for sixty-four years. How shell-shocked must she be now? His death was so sudden, so unexpected, and it only just happened… just like Mike’s defection three weeks ago.

The difference is, of course, that he’s come back. A resurrection of sorts. And God, she wants him to stay, she needs him to stay.

He told her, a few days before he left, that her idea of getting a boat was a stupid one.

‘Can’t you see that I just want our own place, not some toy you’re offering me to placate me?’ he asked her. ‘Our own life.’

She is heartbroken that he doesn’t feel like they have one. But if he doesn’t believe they have a life together, she wants to change that. And maybe that will have to start with building their own home together.

The problem is money. Her practice is successful, but she’s deliberately chosen to focus on helping people, which often means people without insurance, who cannot afford to pay high fees. And yes, she has her trust fund, and while the income from the trust is substantial, it’s not enough to purchase another apartment outright. She’d need to tap into the principal--which she would never do--or take out a mortgage, or sell their apartment.

 _No,_ she thinks. She could never sell it. It will be Caroline’s when she graduates. So, a mortgage. All right. They can do that, take their time to look around for a place that they love. Maybe they’ll find a place to fix up, and then they can work on that… 

She opens her eyes. Yes. She can see it. Having come to the decision, she’s even a bit excited. She turns to look at him and rests a hand on his back, stroking it gently, before lying back down and closing her eyes. She holds her breath and listens to the rhythm of his breathing, then tries to match hers to his. Slowly, slowly, she drifts off to sleep.

 

When she wakes up in the morning it’s still early and he’s still asleep. She feels exhausted still but she knows that she won’t be able to go back to sleep. She feels cold, too--lifting her head, she looks out the window and sees that last night was the first frost--and she wants to move closer to him, absorb some of his warmth. Their bed doesn’t have any of the heavier blankets, just a light cotton one on top of linen sheets, and because she’s not ready to get out of bed, and because she misses her husband, and because she’s lonely, she decides to move closer.

Moving to close the few inches of distance between them is possibly the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. She presses her body against his back, draping her arm over his waist, and she rests her cheek against his shoulder and closes her eyes. She feels him stir and wake, and he twists his head to look at her. She keeps her eyes closed and stays still.

‘Liz,’ he says, his voice soft. ‘You awake?’

‘Mmhmm,’ she murmurs. 

She feels him exhale, and waits. ‘It's cold,’ he says at last. 

‘Mmhmm,’ she says again, moving closer to him. 

‘Shouldn't have left the windows open,’ he says, and moves to stand. 

‘No,’ she says, tightening her grip. ‘Stay here, please.’

‘I’m freezing,’ he says, pushing himself up to sit, turning to look at her. She is still lying on her side, though because he’s moved she's no longer touching him. She looks up at him and he looks down at her and for a moment she feels as though they are strangers, that he is a stranger, not the father of her child, not her husband. He looks away first, then gets out of bed and walks to the closet. She turns back to the window and looks down at the water, watching the waves lap against the shore. She’s suddenly, completely terrified that he’ll just start getting dressed, that he’ll just go downstairs, away from her. But instead, to her profound relief, he drops one of her worn Hudson’s Bay blankets on the foot of the bed and climbs back into bed with her, pulling the blanket over them.

He asks, ‘what’s the plan for today? Besides heading out this afternoon, and the wake.’

‘Caroline is bringing Lucas to the station this morning. And then I don’t know. Peter’s writing his eulogy. I have to choose the readings.’

He nods, looking up at the ceiling. He sighs and she closes her eyes. ‘Lizzie,’ he says softly, and her heart leaps. He hasn’t called her Lizzie since he came back… 

‘Yes?’ she whispers, opening her eyes.

He shifts and looks down at her. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you too,’ she says. ‘Oh, God, Mike, I missed you so much.’

He reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, then turns that gesture into a caress, trailing his fingers down her jaw. Her heartrate picks up and she sees his eyes begin to darken as he drops his hand, tracing her collarbone. She can’t help her breath quickening and for the first time since he came back he smiles at her.

‘I missed this,’ he tells her, shifting his weight so that he’s lying next to her.

He reaches out to her again and she feels frozen, unable to move, as he moves the strap of her nightgown away. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder, and then suddenly she can move again. She wraps her arms around him and he rolls her onto her back, settling on top of her, kissing her. Her heart is racing as she responds, as he slips one hand beneath her nightgown.

She gasps into his mouth and he pulls back to grin at her, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘You feel so good,’ he tells her, pushing up her nightgown, lowering himself to kiss her again. She responds with passion, desperate for him, needing him… ‘Take off your panties,’ he tells her, lifting himself up and away from her.

Her breath catches in her throat as she moves to obey, pulling off her underwear and tossing it on the ground. He’s busy pulling off his tshirt, yanking off his boxers, and before she can say anything else he’s on top of her again, settling himself between her legs.

‘I love you,’ she tells him, then gasps, arching into his touch. ‘Oh, God, don’t stop,’ she tells him and he chuckles. ‘Oh, I need you--’ she begs him, and he nods before guiding himself into her.

She exhales sharply and he begins to move. She looks up at him, seeing that stubborn lock of hair fall into his eyes, the look of utter concentration on his face, the smile curving his lips. His breath is coming quickly and he looks so handsome, so handsome, and it’s been so long since they’ve been together--

‘God, you feel good,’ he says, his voice rough. ‘Oh, Christ, Lizzie--’ he pulls her towards him and the tension starts to build low in her stomach, twisting tighter and tighter as he continues to move, and she feels his own need mount too. She runs a hand down the length of his spine, enjoying the way his breath catches, and then, suddenly, he lowers his head to kiss her, lightly biting her lower lip, and she starts to come, moaning into his mouth, and she feels him spill inside her, and feels rather than hears his groan of satisfaction.

He rests his weight on top of her for a moment before he rolls them both onto their sides. He buries his face against her neck and she can feel his uneven breathing, the sweat coating his skin.

‘God,’ he says, and at the same moment they both start to laugh. He lifts his head and looks at her, smiling. 

‘My thoughts exactly,’ she says, resting her hand on his chest, smiling at him. He rests his hand on hers.

‘I love you, Lizzie, you know,’ he says. ‘And--’

‘I know,’ she tells him, and she senses his relief. ‘I love you.’

He smiles and runs his hand down her back. ‘Mm, can I get you out of this now?’ he asks, tugging at the hem of her nightgown.

‘Please,’ she tells him. ‘Let’s shower, all right?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees, and flips the covers off of them. ‘Sounds good.’

 

They shower lazily together, her body humming with satisfaction. He washes her back and she washes his, happy to be with him again. _God_ , she thinks, _I love him so much_. Before they get out of the shower, she slips her arms around his waist and rests her head against his chest. He runs a hand down her back and kisses her forehead, and they hold each other tight for a few long minutes before he turns off the shower.

They dress. She tells him that she’ll go check on her mother and he says he’ll go and make some coffee. At the door they stand awkwardly for a moment, looking at each other, before she stretches up to kiss him. Before the moment becomes awkward again, she opens the door and heads down the hall to her mother’s bedroom. She thinks to herself, _we’ll have to learn how to be together again._ She hates that. They’ve been comfortable with each other from the start, but with these three weeks between them she feels shy and nervous. At least she feels reconnected to him, somewhat. She raps lightly on her mother’s door and opens it.

Her parents’ room is large and spans the width of the house. The bathroom is at one end, with the closet, and then the bed, and facing the water is a little sitting area. Her mother is there now, perched in her armchair, and she turns to look at her.

‘Hi, Mummy,’ she says, crossing the room. ‘How are you feeling?’

Her mother, patrician and graceful and controlled, looks up at her with exhaustion. ‘Tired,’ she admits, her mother who has never admitted exhaustion before.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, sinking down into the sofa perpendicular to her mother’s chair. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, thank you, darling,’ her mother says, then takes a sip of coffee. She studies her mother, this woman who she resembles greatly, whom her daughter resembles, and wonders if this is how she looked during these last three miserable weeks. Bereft and broken and lost. And how relieved she’d been when her father said that he would fix everything… Mummy doesn’t have him to fix things any longer, and even if she took his place, she could never fix this.

She asks, ‘Have you had breakfast? What would you like?’

‘Really, darling, I’m fine,’ Mummy replies. ‘I’d just like a little bit of time on my own, before this afternoon and the wake and dealing with your Aunt Janet, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course,’ she says, and leans forward to squeeze her mother’s hand. ‘I love you. I’ll be downstairs.’

‘I love you too,’ her mother says, and she stands and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

 

It’s not yet seven o’clock, and when she goes downstairs to the kitchen she sees her husband, her daughter, and her daughter’s boyfriend standing around the kitchen island, drinking coffee. Without speaking, Mike pours her a cup as she greets Caroline and Lucas.

‘We’re going to head to the station in a minute,’ Caroline explains, setting down her empty mug. ‘What train should Lucas take tonight?’

‘I think the wake will be at Inis Fada,’ she says. ‘But I’ll confirm that with Aunt Janet this morning. So, Lucas, if you can take the 6:16 from Penn to Locust Valley, that would be best. It’s a direct train.’

‘Of course,’ he says courteously. ‘I’ll be there.’

‘Thanks, Mom,’ Caroline says, and she looks at her daughter, who is clearly impatient. ‘We’ve got to go.’

‘All right. See you later,’ she says, and smiles at Lucas too before picking up the cup of coffee Mike slides across the counter to her. Lucas waves goodbye to them, but Caroline only kisses her cheek and then grabs the keys to the wagon, banging out the back door.

He waits until they hear the car start to speak. ‘She’s still mad at me.’

She doesn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she offers at last, watching him as he stares into his coffee cup.

‘I mean, I kind of figured that would be the case,’ he says, sighing. ‘You both have every right.’

She doesn’t want to talk about this now. She doesn’t want to fight again, not when she needs him, not with this horrid day ahead of her.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said,’ she begins. ‘About us having our own place. And I think we should start looking.’

He looks at her, startled. ‘What?’

‘You’re right,’ she says, even though it’s so hard to think about leaving their home. ‘I still don’t want to sell our apartment--when Caroline’s ready for it, I want her to have it--’

‘Yeah,’ he interrupts. ‘Yeah, I know.’

She offers him a smile. ‘So we’ll need to take out a mortgage, but--you’re right. It’s time.’

He starts to smile--a slow one that turns into a grin. ‘Thank you,’ he says. 

‘Thank you, Mike,’ she tells him. ‘I’m grateful for you, for your patience all these years.’

He sets his coffee down and walks around the island to embrace her. She hugs him back and buries her face in his chest.

‘So, where do you want to look?’ he asks, his voice rumbling through his chest.

She tilts her head to look up at him. ‘I’m not sure. What about you?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t we sit down, look what’s out there when we get home?’

‘That sounds good,’ she says, and he bends down to kiss her.

 

She speaks with her aunt. Aunt Janet has decided to have the wake at Inis Fada, just as she expected. Mike makes breakfast--he’s become an excellent cook--and her mother, Peter, and Miranda join them in the dining room. Just as they sit down, they hear the door open and Caroline comes in, hovering in the doorway.

‘Good morning,’ she says.

‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ her grandmother says. ‘Do you want breakfast?’

‘Sure,’ she says, crossing the room to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. Caroline then smiles at Peter and Miranda and takes the chair next to her grandmother.

Everyone helps themselves to breakfast. Mike brings in a fresh pot of coffee and then slides into his seat next to her. As she picks up her cup of coffee, he presses his knee against hers and she smiles as she takes a sip, sliding her hand under the table to squeeze his leg.

Breakfast is delicious. Mike’s made waffles, bacon, sausage, a fruit salad, and lots of coffee. Everyone eats with an appetite, though it’s more for fuel instead of enjoyment. She is dreading the rest of the day, and tonight, and tomorrow… 

‘Have you decided on the readings yet, Liz?’ Miranda asks. 

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Can we go over them later, please?’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ her godmother replies. ‘Now, we were thinking we should leave around one. Does that sound all right?’

There’s a murmur of assent.

‘Good,’ Peter says, speaking for the first time. ‘Thank you for breakfast, Mike.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ her mother says. ‘We appreciate it.’

‘Sure,’ Mike says, stretching out his legs. ‘Anyone want anything else?’

Everyone shakes their heads. Caroline stares down at her plate.

‘I’ll go with Peter and Miranda,’ her mother says. ‘Caroline, can you go with your parents?’

Caroline’s head jerks up at that, and she’s startled for a moment, too, surprised her mother has acknowledged that. And God, she’s so glad her father knew before he died… she’s so glad he wasn’t angry.

‘Yes,’ Caroline says. ‘That’s fine. I should shower and pack. Thanks for breakfast, Mike.’ She stands up and leaves the room quite abruptly and she feels Mike’s disappointment.

Miranda says, ‘Liz, we’re going to pack too. Can you print out the reading you want me to do, please, and I’ll read it in the car?’

‘Of course,’ she says, and then, breakfast over, they get up from the table.

 

At one, after a quick lunch of sandwiches, they all pile into their cars. Her mother is with Peter and Miranda; she and Mike and Caroline are in Mike’s car. They take Sadie with them, though they leave Tracy and Dext at the house. Their new housekeeper, hired a few years ago to help Nina with some of the more involved aspects of keeping up the house, will feed and walk them.

Caroline, who has seemed so grown up these past few weeks, behaves like a typical teenager again as soon as they get in the car. Caroline flops back against the seat and pulls out her phone. She lets her daughter sulk for a bit, until they get on the highway, and then she turns around and looks at her.

‘Are you all right?’ she asks.

Caroline looks at her with the same unreadable look that she gives people, her gaze flickering to Mike for a brief second. Her heart sinks--she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but… 

‘I’m just sad,’ her daughter says at last. ‘I can’t believe he’s gone. I don’t know how you are handling this, or Grandmother…’

She sighs. ‘I don’t know how your grandmother is handling it either. God, they’d been through everything together… they met each other when they were eighteen, their first year of college… almost seventy years.’

Mike sighs and both she and Caroline look at him. He notices their scrutiny after a moment and flushes. ‘I was just thinkin’ that I wish we’d met when we were eighteen,’ he says to her, glancing over for a moment. She blushes too and barely catches her daughter’s quick, interested glance. There’s an awkward silence in the car and Caroline looks back and forth at the two of them.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Caroline says at last. ‘Both of you.’

‘Of course,’ she says.

‘Sure,’ Mike says.

‘Are you two back together now or what?’

There’s a long, long silence. She looks over at Mike, who is clutching the steering wheel and focused on the road even though they’re stopped in traffic.

‘I hope so,’ he says at last. ‘I hope you and your mother can forgive me.’

‘I have,’ she says when he looks at her, and he gives her a small smile. They both look at Caroline in the rearview mirror--she meets their eyes.

‘Good,’ she says. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Me too,’ she says, and reaches out to touch Mike’s knee. He rests his hand on hers and squeezes tight.

Their daughter says, ‘Can we put on some music, please?’

‘Sure,’ Mike says, and squeezes her hand again before releasing it. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, and pulls up a playlist, pressing play. The music starts to play through the speakers--she supposes Caroline must have connected her phone to the Bluetooth when she’s borrowed the car in the past--and she closes her eyes as Etta James starts to sing.

_At laaast…_

This song… they danced to this song at their wedding, and how appropriate it was. At last, at last, at last. She smiles.

 

They finally reach the North Shore at three and head to Seawanhaka. They’ll have to leave almost right away arrive at Inis Fada by five but they need to drop Sadie off first and change. Mike parks in the graveled drive and turns off the car. The rest of the ride has been silent, besides the music, and the drive has been long, so she’s eager to get out of the car and spend the small amount of time they have with her husband.

‘When are we leaving?’ Caroline asks as they get out of the car.

‘Quarter to five?’ she suggests. ‘And I think we should take a cab.’

‘I need to pick up Lucas at the station,’ Caroline reminds her.

‘I’ll be honest with you, darling,’ she says, looking at her daughter. ‘I don’t expect that I’ll be in any shape to drive after fifteen minutes with your Aunt Janet, let alone four hours.’

Caroline laughs. ‘That’s fair. Well, I’ll be careful, then.’

‘You sure, Caroline?’ Mike says. ‘Because I’m sure you can borrow Peter’s car and drive to the station to get Lucas.’

‘That’s true,’ she admits. ‘I’ll ask. And then we don’t have to worry later.’

‘All right,’ Mike agrees. ‘Let’s check in.’

She collects Sadie’s leash, Mike carries her bag and his, and Caroline carries hers. They head inside.

 

While Mike is showering, she slips downstairs to collect two cocktails from the bar. She’ll shower next--the shower is so small that it precludes them washing together--and besides, she desperately needs a drink. Peter is in the bar, alone except for the bartender, and he looks up when she walks in.

‘I really don’t want to go to this tonight,’ he says after she sits next to him. ‘Your father and Janet didn’t get along, and she’s going to make it all about herself… they hadn’t seen each other for over a year.’

‘I know,’ she says, frowning down at the table. Her parents had had a falling out with Janet and her husband when she was in Paris and using their flat--they’d kicked her out with limited notice because an interior designer they wanted to hire was suddenly available. Well, it worked out for the best, because she moved in with Luc… 

‘How are you holding up?’ Peter asks and she drags her mind back to the present.

‘I’m all right, I suppose,’ she says. ‘I miss him already, of course. But I was lucky to have him for so much of my life.’

‘He loved you so much,’ her godfather says gently. ‘You were his whole world.’

She feels her eyes fill with tears and she focuses her eyes on the grain of the wood of the table in an attempt not to cry. ‘I know. I was very lucky.’

They sit in silence for a minute and Peter drains his glass. ‘I should go upstairs, get changed.’

‘Me too. I just needed some fortification.’

He smiles briefly. ‘I know what you mean. We’re leaving at 4:45. Is that all right?’

‘Yes, we’ve called a cab.’

‘Yes, Caroline explained the situation to me. I think that’s wise.’

‘Good.’

‘He’s good for her--Lucas is,’ Peter says. ‘Like Mike is for you. I’m glad he’s back, Lilibet.’

‘Me too,’ she says, blinking back tears again.

He stands and kisses the top of your head. ‘All right. I’ll see you shortly.’

She sits for a minute, then collects her drinks from the bartender before going back upstairs to her room.

Mike is out of the shower when she returns and he looks up. ‘I wondered where you went,’ he says as she hands him a drink. ‘This was a good idea, thanks.’

She takes a big sip of her drink. ‘I need it. Janet is… well, you remember.’

He shudders. ‘Yes, I do.’

She sits down next to him on the bed and remembers the last time she saw her aunt, at Caroline’s graduation party, showing up and making everything about her. She hadn’t even known what school Caroline graduated from. She rests her head against Mike’s shoulder and closes her eyes. He turns his head and kisses her forehead.

‘We’re runnin’ out of time if you want to shower,’ he reminds her.

‘I know,’ she says, but stays there for a minute. Finally she straightens up, takes another sip of her drink, and stands. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

‘Okay,’ he tells her, and stands himself, moving to the minute wardrobe to find his suit.

She takes a quick, scaldingly hot shower, then blowdries her hair before emerging from the bathroom into their small bedroom. There’s no room for them to both move around, so he gingerly sprawls on the bed, careful not to wrinkle his suit, while she puts on her dress, a simple black silk sheath. She has another black dress to wear for tomorrow, a wool one, hanging in the closet. She collects the black cashmere wrap she brought, makes sure she has everything she needs in her small purse, then sits down at the tiny vanity to apply her makeup. In the mirror, she looks at her husband. He looks so handsome, she thinks, he’s so handsome, even more so than when they first met… and he’d been so handsome then, a heartbreaker.

He was a complex person and he continuously surprised her. Together they’d gone down, with Caroline, her parents, Eliza, Chrissy, and Miranda, to Washington to march in the Women’s March. He’d wanted to come too, and during the march she looked over at him and thought, _My God. Mike Logan at a women’s march, carrying a sign that reads “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”_ She never would have believed it, had someone told her this would happen in 1991. But there he was, carrying a sign Caroline had made for him, with a quote from Gloria Steinem prominently displayed.

Her parents had collected her daughter from Farmington and they’d driven down--her parents, Chrissy, and Miranda in one car, and Eliza and Caroline with them. She, Caroline, and Mike had stayed with Diana Hawthorne, who had moved to DC after she was released from Bedford Hills and had started working in a nonprofit that helped women who had been touched by the prison system. She’d eventually become the head of the legal department there, after being admitted to the DC Bar after years of trying after her felony conviction. She’d bought a small townhouse in Eastern Market in the mid-90s, before the area had become gentrified, when it was still extremely inexpensive. Now, of course, it was a very desirable area, and she’d visited once or twice a year, just as Diana visited her when she was in Manhattan. Her parents, Miranda, Chrissy, and Eliza had stayed at the Sulgrave Club, though they’d all met at Diana’s house the morning of the march, excited.

She’ll never forget that day. Marching with her family, for women, looking over at her father, who was proud to say that he was a feminist. He and her mother had been ardent supporters of feminism. Her father would hire women at the bank for executive positions when that wasn’t a common occurrence. He offered equal pay for equal work, which still didn’t happen as a matter of course. Her mother used to host a consciousness-raising meeting. She remembers being a small child, creeping down the hallway of their apartment to listen to these women speak about their lives, their struggles. She wasn’t allowed to come to these meetings. They were about women’s problems, adult problems. Her mother would spend the entire day every week preparing for her meeting, which was always held at their apartment. She, of the women in her group, had the space, had the time. Either Nina or her father would prepare dinner, make sure she bathed, and would tuck her in, and then her father would go out for the evening to make sure to give her mother’s group space.

She knew, always, that she was lucky. That she was privileged. It wasn’t just the apartment and the schools and the house in Connecticut. It was the physical space she had, the time that her parents had. Both her parents had their own money, so her mother didn’t feel dependent on her father. And her mother could have found a job if she wanted, which she didn’t. She occupied her time with her charities and by helping others. And she knew that in this new world of feminism, her parents were outliers. That they were educated was certainly not uncommon, and that they were well-off wasn’t unheard of, but they were members of a small group of people who were able to make change and actually did, in their own small way. Miranda was involved, too, and Peter was to a lesser, quieter extent, but her parents… looking back now, she’s impressed with their firm, definitive stance on what was right and what was wrong, especially in that time.

She remembers sneaking down the hall one night when she was maybe seven, sitting in the corner of the hallway that led down to the living room. If she sat just right, she could peer into the living room, at these exciting women, so different from her mother’s usual crowd. Some of these women smoked and everyone drank the excellent wine or cocktails her mother provided. But that one night, the one that stood out in her memory, her mother spoke.

‘I’m lucky,’ she began, and she took the risk of peeking out further to look at her mother. She was sitting in the slipper chair to one side of the fireplace, holding a martini. ‘I have a wonderful, supportive husband, a marvellous daughter. I have independent means. I have childcare. I have the freedom to do what I want. But this morning I went to American Express to pick up traveller’s checks for our trip to France next month and I was denied.’

‘Denied?’ someone asked.

‘Yes. They told me to come back with my husband, that they couldn’t release that amount of money to me. Despite the fact that it was my own money.’ She’d never heard her mother like that, the tight, controlled, furious note in her voice. ‘My own money, from my own bank account, that has nothing to do with my husband. My own check, that I wrote out and signed in front of them.’

‘What did you do?’ a different woman asked.

‘I tried to argue with them. I asked to see someone else. And the man “assisting” me brought another man over, who said the exact same thing. So what else could I do? I left, and went down to the bank my husband owns, and explained what happened to him. And he was furious but sadly unsurprised, just as I was unsurprised. And he went during his lunch to pick up the traveller’s checks, and spoke with them about it, and they told him that it was their policy to ask for a husband or father’s permission. He told them that he didn’t agree with that, that my money was my money, but they insisted. And he left.’

She remembers this as though it was yesterday. Her mother had taken a sip of her martini and said, ‘I know I’m lucky. I’m privileged. But then things like this happen and I think, my God, no matter what I have, there are still things I’m not allowed to do. Because I’m a woman. And--I’m afraid for my daughter. That she’ll grow up in a world like this one that we’re stuck in now, that she won’t be able to be the person she’s meant to be, because she’s female. And--’ she remembers thinking that she’d never heard her talk so much, so passionately, in all her life, ‘--and no matter what we can give her, money and an education and the freedom to choose what she wants to be, who she wants to be, the world might tell her that she can’t.’

‘Well, tell her that she can,’ a third woman said. ‘No matter what.’

Her mother had looked up at that point, and spotted her, and smiled. The other women had turned to look at her too and she blushed but stepped into the room when her mother beckoned her forward.

‘This is my daughter, Elizabeth,’ she said, and she came to her mother’s side, snuggling up into her. Her mother wrapped her arm around her and she looked out at the women in her living room--women in Chanel suits, in peasant blouses, in jeans. She could smell her mother’s perfume and her martini, and she tucked her legs up beneath her and listened.

The women’s conversation resumed, filled with things she didn’t understand and wouldn’t understand for years, until she had her own child. She almost drifted off to sleep, listening to the voices, the ice clinking against glasses, and then the clock chimed ten and the women got up to leave. She stirred and her mother stroked her hair and a woman came up to her to say, ‘I hope you know that you can be whoever you want to be.’

She’d smiled and nodded and then she left, and her mother brought her to bed and tucked her in.

‘It’s true, darling, you know,’ her mother said. ‘Whoever you want to be, whatever you want to be…’ 

She’d smiled again and gone to sleep. But despite her mother’s words that day, her parents had had expectations of her that she didn’t agree with. Her mother, particularly, wanted her to marry someone like Ben… at least before Mummy got to know Mike. But her parents’ expectations, thank God, had changed over the years, and they accepted the person she’d become, the man she loved… 

‘Lizzie?’ her husband asks, and she looks down at her hands. She’s still holding her open lipstick, and looks up at the mirror to see that she’s already made up her face without paying attention. She shifts her gaze to him. ‘You okay?’

‘Just thinking,’ she says, and puts the cap back on her lipstick. ‘What time is it?’

‘Four forty,’ he tells her. ‘You ready?’

‘Yes,’ she says, and sets her lipstick down. ‘I’m ready.’


	31. Chapter 31

He feels awful for his girlfriend. She’s handling everything--all these changes, all these revelations--well, but there have been so many, so quickly… and such startling ones, too. Finding out that her father wasn’t really her father, her grandfather’s death, her mother’s husband’s defection and his return… lots of things happening. He’s glad he’s here for her, or at least closer to her than Paris.

He can’t focus today. He’s glad he doesn’t have much on his plate because he wouldn’t be able to do much at all. He has to head out to Locust Valley shortly, to go to this wake for Caroline’s grandfather at the house where he grew up, but all he wants to do is whisk her away somewhere, anywhere, without all these stressors in her life.

Caroline and her mother are close, he knows. They are extremely close and share pretty much everything, from what he’s been able to gather. She’s been reading her mother’s journals, she told him, the ones that Liz wrote when she was pregnant, and during Caroline’s first few months of life. He’ll admit that he’s astonished Liz is sharing them with her, because she is an extremely private person, but apparently Caroline is the only one who can access Liz’s secrets. Personally he’s unsure that this sort of open access is wise, but he is not the psychologist, and besides, it’s seemed to help Caroline accept the lies her parents told her for her entire life.

He hopes that she’s doing all right today. They’ve texted briefly, when she was in the car driving down to Long Island with her parents, but nothing for the past hour or so. He needs to leave in the next five minutes to head over to Penn Station and board the 6:16 train to Locust Valley. He stands--he’s wearing a nice suit, grey pinstripe, with an appropriately somber tie--and collects his things before sticking his head in to his supervisor’s office to say goodnight.

‘Goodnight,’ she says, waving him out. ‘We’ll see you on Wednesday.’

He’s taking tomorrow off to be with Caroline for the funeral. She’s told him she’s taking the rest of the week off from college, then will head back to Yale on Sunday. He’s glad they’ll have time to spend together during the week.

As he makes his way out of the office and over to Penn, he thinks about his beautiful girlfriend. They’ve known each other since Caroline was nine and he was twelve, and she’d spent part of every summer with them. They became friends, close friends, and his sister Isabelle and Caroline were especially close. But last summer… last summer he saw her in an entirely different light, and she saw him the same way, and they’d taken tentative steps towards a relationship. And then last winter, when they'd come here for Isabelle’s debutante ball… well, they've been together since, and he's so happy he can be here for the next five years.

He loves New York. His first visit was last winter, and now, having been here for three weeks, he can't imagine living anywhere else. He loves Paris, of course, but there is something vibrant and alive and new about this city. On weekday nights he walks around, learning the different neighborhoods, picturing their future here. He knows that Caroline won't want to leave Manhattan, and if he plays his career right he won't need to uproot them.

They spent Friday night talking about their future. He wants to marry her as soon as she finishes Yale. She's made it clear that she wants to marry him too, and have a family… he wants that so much. He knows that she's the person for him. It was startling to realize that last summer, to feel everything click, but wonderful too. And he was so relieved that she felt the same way.

Caroline is very different from anyone he’d ever known before. Perhaps it’s because she’s American, because there are definite differences between America and France, no matter that Caroline spent much time in Paris growing up. There was something about her confidence that was uniquely American; she was shy, yes, but she was confident in herself and who she is, even if she was nervous about meeting new people.

And God, she was stunning inside and out. She was a good, kind person--when they’d first met, his younger brother had been stung by a bee and Caroline had comforted him, giving him her stuffed toy to cuddle while he got a cold compress. She’s always been thoughtful. And she was _beautiful_. He’ll never get tired of looking at her.

He gets off the E and heads over to the main concourse for the Long Island Railroad. He checks the train time--he has twelve minutes before the train--and purchases his ticket from the disgusting automated kiosk, then waits for the train to be called.

He looks around. There are the usual exhausted commuters, people who spent the day in the city, tourists. The track for the Oyster Bay train is called and there is a rush of people streaming to the train. He lets them pass, then follows at a more leisurely pace, finding a seat in a group of four seats. He looks at the two men sitting across from him--they look vaguely familiar, and as he surreptitiously regards them over his paper, he realizes that these are Caroline’s cousins. Owen and Toby, he thinks, Bill and Margot’s sons. She has a large, complicated extended family, and while he had the chance to meet many of them at Liz’s birthday party last week, these two weren’t at the party. They look similar to her, though, and similar to the other cousins, and he’s seen pictures of them when Caroline went through her entire family.

His suspicion is confirmed when one of them says, ‘I can’t believe Uncle Nick’s dead.’

‘I know,’ the other says. ‘I thought he’d live forever. He was in great shape, played tennis or squash every day…’

‘Just goes to show that you never know.’

‘Yeah,’ the other one says.

The train collector comes around and he hands his ticket to him. Caroline’s cousins do as well, then continue their conversation.

‘So did you get in touch with anyone? Who’s picking us up?’

‘Mom and Dad are staying at that hotel in Glen Cove--there isn’t any room at the club. So Mom said that someone would be waiting at the station for us.’

‘Okay,’ the other one says, and then adds, ‘I wonder how Aunt Isobel is holding up.’

‘I can’t imagine.’

He knows that he should interrupt them, introduce himself, especially as they’re going to be thrown together for the next few days. So he folds his paper, leans forward and says, ‘Excuse me for interrupting.’

They both turn and look at him.

‘You’re Toby and Owen Griswold, yes? I’m Lucas de Montigny, Caroline’s boyfriend.’

Their tense expressions ease. ‘It’s great to meet you,’ the older one says. ‘I’m Owen.’

‘And I’m Toby,’ the other one says.

They all shake hands. ‘Our parents told us that you got a job at the French Consulate, is that right?’

‘The Mission to the UN, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s a five year assignment.’

‘That’s great,’ Owen says. ‘And you get to see Caroline on the weekends, I assume.’

‘Yes, she comes down each weekend. I’ll be visiting soon, though--it’s been busy with relocating, Liz’s birthday, that sort of thing.’

‘Yeah, of course.’ There’s a pause, but then the conversation resumes, as they ask him about himself and he learns more about them too.

The train ride goes quickly and then, suddenly, they’re at Locust Valley and they’re getting off the train. He sees Caroline waiting for them--she’d texted her cousins in the middle of their train ride, saying she’d pick them up--and he smiles. She beams back at him and he just takes her in--she looks gorgeous in an elegant black dress and heels.

‘Hi, darling,’ he says as they approach her. She blushes as he bends down to give her a kiss, but he doesn’t care that her cousins are here. When they break apart, Caroline is bright red and her cousins laugh, good-natured.

‘If you’re done making out, can we go?’ Toby asks, and his tone isn’t as good-natured as the laughter.

Caroline retorts, ‘You’re just jealous that I’ve found my future husband and you’re still on Tinder.’

‘Oh-ho!’ Owen says, laughing. ‘You got him there, Caroline.’

‘All right, all right,’ Toby says, flushed a dark, embarrassed red. He looks surprisingly angry, he notes, and immediately feels uneasy. ‘Let’s go.’

Caroline looks at her cousin for a long moment before she turns back to the car. He gets in on the passenger side, Caroline gets in the driver’s seat of Peter’s car, and her cousins get in the back. She turns on the car and starts to drive, completely silent. 

Toby takes the five minute drive to make a lot of negative, pointed remarks about her driving, about how his family is being “forced” to stay at a hotel instead of at the club… finally Caroline turns onto a graveled drive and a red brick Georgian house emerges from the trees.

It’s beautiful, he thinks. Elegantly symmetrical. There are white columns and two wings covered in ivy. The forecourt is already filled with cars and Caroline finds a space at the end of a row of cars and turns it off.

‘I borrowed Peter’s car, so you’ll need to take your bags,’ she tells her cousins. Toby grumbles and lopes off to the house; as he walks to Caroline, Owen stops them.

‘Listen, I’m sorry about Toby,’ he says awkwardly. ‘He’s in a tough place.’

‘I know,’ Caroline says. ‘But that’s no call to be rude.’

‘I know,’ Owen acknowledges. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

She nods and he follows his brother. When he’s out of earshot, he asks, ‘what was that about?’

His girlfriend sighs. ‘Toby assumed that he’d just be able to walk into a good job at the bank, so he partied throughout college, didn’t get good grades, and didn’t work hard. My grandfather declined to hire him. He said that just because Toby was family, it didn’t entitle him to a position when other people, who worked hard, deserved it more. Toby was furious. Bill and Margot tried to persuade my grandfather and Peter to change their minds, but they didn’t, because they believe that people who work hard deserve to work there. Anyway, Toby has been bouncing around, trying to find something. He’s taking it out on me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and sets his briefcase down to embrace her. ‘Oh, darling, these have been a tough few weeks for you, hmm?’

‘Yes, they have,’ she admits, burying her face in his chest. ‘Oh, Lucas, I just wish that everything was over, that we could just go away somewhere and ignore everything.’

‘I know,’ he says, and silently decides that yes, after this is over, he’ll whisk her away. Maybe Bermuda? She loves it there and it’s such a quick flight. Maybe they can take a Friday evening flight… 

She pulls back and looks up at him. ‘I love you, Lucas. Thank you for being here.’

‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else,’ he assures her, and she smiles at him. ‘I love you.’

She kisses him lightly. ‘We have to go in, I think. But I just can’t wait to get back to the club and be with you.’

‘Me too, darling,’ he replies, stroking her hair. ‘Soon.’

‘Not soon enough,’ she tells him, and he laughs, a little surprised at the vehemence of her response. ‘God, my aunt Janet is horrid. But I suppose we’ve got to go in now.’

‘I’ll be all right,’ he tells her, and with one more kiss she takes his hand and they go towards the house.

He’s startled when they step inside. The house is crowded with people and the atmosphere is less somber than he would have suspected. He meets Caroline’s gaze and she lifts her eyebrows, acknowledging his silent surprise.

‘Mom and Mike were with Grandmother in the drawing room,’ she says, tugging his hand to lead him through the crowd of people. They’re stopped several times by her family or by friends, and each time she introduces him to the new people they’re confronted with. They finally make it to the bar, where they each get a martini, and then she says, ‘We’re halfway there.’

He sighs and takes a sip of his drink. At least it’s strong. ‘How are we getting back tonight?’

‘A cab,’ she says. ‘We took one here. We all figured we’d be drinking heavily tonight.’

Before he can say anything he hears someone cry, ‘Caroline, darling!’ He looks over at an older woman clad in black from head to toe, wearing jet jewelry, sweeping in. She nearly knocks his drink over as she embraces Caroline. ‘Darling, you’ve been very naughty, I’ve been looking for you everywhere…’

‘Hi, Aunt Janet,’ his girlfriend says, her words muffled beneath this woman’s excessive black shawl. He can’t quite see her any more--she’s covered in diaphanous fabric--but her aunt finally pulls back.

‘You look beautiful, darling, I’m sure that my dear brother was so proud of you,’ Janet says, dabbing at her eyes with a black-bordered handkerchief. ‘I can’t believe he’s gone.’ It looks like she’s starting to work herself up to a wailing fit, he thinks with horror, and Caroline stops her.

‘I know, me neither,’ she says, then asks quickly, ‘Where’s Mom?’

Janet waves a careless hand. ‘I don’t know. She’s somewhere.’ Then, to his dismay, she turns and looks at him. ‘Hello. Who are you?’

‘This is Lucas de Montigny,’ Caroline says. ‘My boyfriend.’

Janet looks him over in quite a disturbing fashion. ‘Well done, Caroline. He’s very handsome.’

He looks at his girlfriend and Caroline says, ‘We have to find Mom, Aunt Janet.’ Before her aunt can say anything else, she’s yanked him away.

‘I see what you mean,’ he tells her when he’s sure they’re out of earshot.

‘I know,’ she whispers back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He shudders involuntarily. ‘You don’t see her often, do you?’

‘I’ve seen her three times in the past five years,’ she assures him, and he smiles at her.

‘Good. Now, let’s find your mother.’

She steps close to him for a moment, kissing his shoulder, and she looks up at him. ‘I love you.’

He rests his hand on her lower back, feeling the pleasing curve of her spine. ‘I love you too.’

They take a sip of their drinks and then Caroline leads him to the drawing room. He scans the room when he enters it--Isobel is seated on a sofa, with Miranda sitting next to her and Peter standing, guarding the path to Isobel. It’s clear that his stance is deliberate, because Isobel looks exhausted and she’s clearly grieving. Near the fireplace, Liz and Mike are standing with Liz’s cousin Teddy and his wife. Eliza and Kip are chatting with Caroline’s other cousins and then her aunts and uncles are talking to people he doesn’t recognize.

‘Let’s say hi to my grandmother quickly, then talk to Mom,’ Caroline suggests. He nods in agreement and follows her to the sofa where her grandmother is ensconced.

‘Lucas,’ Isobel says, looking up. ‘Thank you for coming.’

Miranda smiles at him and excuses herself as he takes Isobel’s proffered hand. ‘Of course. I didn’t know Nick well, but I admired him greatly. I’m so sorry.’

She squeezes his hand. ‘Thank you. You know, he liked you enormously. He thought that you two were a perfect match.’ She looks at Caroline, who is talking to Peter. ‘I agree.’

‘Thank you,’ he says, and she smiles at him. ‘I’m glad of your approval.’

‘Of course,’ Isobel replies, and releases his hand. ‘Thank you for being there for her. She’s had a difficult few weeks…’

He nods. ‘I think I’m going to take her away this weekend, if I can organize it. Bermuda.’

‘Good. She loves it there.’ Isobel smiles. ‘Talk to her about it. We always stay at Coral Beach, and she adores it. We are members, so when you call, tell them you’re using our membership.’

‘Thank you, Isobel,’ he says, surprised and grateful. ‘I appreciate that.’

She smiles at him sadly. ‘I’m sure you will have a wonderful time. Nick and I went there for our honeymoon and every year after.’

‘I look forward to making our own memories there,’ he says, and then Caroline comes up and rests her hand on his shoulder.

‘Everything all right?’

‘Just reminiscing,’ Isobel says. ‘Lucas is lovely, Caroline. I’m glad you’ve found each other.’

She squeezes his shoulder. ‘I’m very lucky.’

‘Me too,’ he says, resting his hand on hers. She smiles at him. 

‘Aunt Isobel?’ someone asks, and they all look at the speaker.

‘Yes, Bill?’ Isobel asks, and he feels Caroline’s hand grip his shoulder more tightly. 

‘Listen, I know that this isn’t the best time, but--I wanted to talk to you about a position for Toby at the bank.’

‘You’re right, this isn’t the best time,’ Peter says, coming up smoothly behind him.

‘Aunt Isobel,’ Bill says again, ignoring Peter and addressing Caroline’s grandmother directly. ‘He really wants to work at the family business. I think Uncle Nick was a bit hasty in telling Toby there wasn’t a position for him, and I think that now you could--’

Isobel is suddenly ice cold, her expression hardening. ‘You forget, Bill, that the bank isn’t the Griswold family bank--it was started by Nick’s grandfather. I would never presume to think that I was more qualified than my husband, who spent his entire working life there, to make decisions like that. And this is possibly the most inappropriate time you could bring this up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bill says, ‘but I really think he deserves a chance--’

‘Uncle Bill,’ Caroline interjects, ‘I’m really not feeling well. Can you please get me a glass of water?’

Caroline’s uncle shakes his head and nearly slops his scotch all over the floor. He’s drunk, he realizes. ‘I’m talking to Isobel,’ he says, looking at her.

‘No, you’re not,’ Caroline’s uncle Teddy says, crossing the room. ‘Come on, Bill.’

‘He deserves a chance,’ Bill says, protesting as Teddy tries to guide him away. ‘You all have so much money, and you don’t want to give anyone else a chance--’

‘Cut it out,’ Teddy says, and grips his brother’s shoulder hard. ‘This is beyond the wrong time and place. Let’s go.’

As Caroline’s uncles move away, Isobel lets out a long sigh and closes her eyes. Liz approaches and sits down next to her mother, putting her arm around her.

‘That was awful,’ Caroline says bluntly, and Liz looks up and catches Caroline’s gaze, her expression softening as it always does when she looks at her daughter. She really does love Caroline so much, he thinks again, for the thousandth time.

‘Why don’t we all go back to the club?’ Peter suggests. ‘Have some dinner.’

‘Good idea,’ Miranda says briskly, having reappeared next to Caroline. ‘Janet’s in her element right now, so she won’t even notice if we sneak off.’

‘All right,’ Isobel agrees, taking Peter’s hand and standing.

Caroline turns to look at him and he smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. She smiles back.

Liz says, ‘I’ll get Mike and we can call a cab.’

‘You can come with us,’ Chrissy says. ‘We brought the SUV.’

‘Thanks,’ Liz replies, smiling gratefully at her cousin. ‘I’ll meet you all out front.’

‘We’ll meet you at the club,’ Peter tells her, and she nods, then goes off to find Mike.

He wraps his arm around Caroline’s waist and they follow Peter, Miranda, and Isobel outside, waiting for Chrissy.

They’re alone for a few minutes and as they wait for her parents he says, ‘I’m sorry this happened.’

‘Me too,’ Caroline says softly. ‘All this arguing over money… it’s ridiculous.’

‘Mm,’ he agrees. ‘You’ve had a difficult few weeks, darling. I thought that maybe we could go away this weekend or next weekend--maybe Bermuda?’

She smiles. ‘You’re so thoughtful. Yes, I’d love that. We could stay at Coral Beach--it’s perfect there.’

‘Yes, I mentioned this to your grandmother and she suggested that.’

She steps forward and kisses him. ‘I love you. I’m so lucky.’

‘I’m the lucky one,’ he tells her.

Chrissy, Eliza, Kip, Teddy, Mike, and Liz appear.

‘Ready?’ Chrissy asks, and they nod. In the car, he, Caroline, and and Kip sit in the back, Eliza, Liz, and Mike sit in the middle row, and Chrissy and Teddy sit up front. Teddy drives and Chrissy says, ‘what an absolutely disgusting scene.’

‘Chrissy,’ Teddy says, and there's a weary note in his voice. 

‘I know he's your brother, but--’

‘Let's talk about this later,’ Liz says, interrupting. Mike puts his hand on her shoulder and she turns to look at him; in the dim glow of the streetlights he can see the tension in Caroline’s mother’s face ease, soften, as she looks at her husband. But Mike doesn’t look at her, and after a moment drops his hand. Liz turns away from him again, but not before he sees her face fall.

The car is silent and Caroline, who has also seen what he has, reaches out for his hand. He takes hers in both of his and squeezes, reassuring her that he’s there. He looks out the window as they drive along narrow wooded roads, and then, at last, they turn into the gravelled drive of the club.

They get out after Teddy parks and Caroline snuggles close to him as they fall back and walk behind her family.

‘You all right?’ he asks her.

She shakes her head and he stops walking; after a beat, she does too.

‘What is it?’ he asks softly.

She turns and buries her head in his chest. ‘It’s just--it’s too much, Lucas, it’s too much. Grandfather dying, and school, and finding out that I’m not who I thought I was, and then Mike leaving and whatever’s going on between them now…’ she starts to cry, her body shaking with sobs. ‘I just feel so bad for her!’

‘Darling, it’s all right,’ he tells her, somewhat startled that she feels bad for her mother. Liz is a strong woman, and Caroline is too, but Caroline’s the one going through so much now… 

‘No, it’s not,’ she tells him, her sobs getting more pronounced. ‘No, it’s not. When I was seven and Mom and Mike tried to get back together--I told you this already--and it didn’t work out with them. And then when I had an appendectomy I was upset with him too, and it didn’t work out then either with them, and Mom was so upset, she was so sad, and she loved him so much… and now…’ she hiccups. ‘And now, I told her I didn’t want to see him, and he left, and it’s all my fault, all my fault…’

‘It’s not your fault, Caroline,’ he says firmly. ‘They are adults. Whatever decisions they make--they are fully capable of messing up their lives without you.’

She chuckles through her tears and leans back to look up at him. ‘That’s true, I suppose,’ she says. ‘But I feel guilty, Lucas.’

‘They’ve been doing this for a long time, Caroline, a long time before you were even thought of. So it will be all right. Whether or not they get back together, or if they break up… it’s not because of you. Ever. A marriage is between two people, and your parents… they will figure things out for themselves, eventually.’

‘You always make me feel better,’ she says, and wipes her tears away. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he says, and kisses her forehead. ‘It’s all right.’

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘Do I look all right?’

‘Beautiful,’ he tells her, raising his hand to wipe away a stray tear. She does--she always looks beautiful, no matter what.

She laughs. ‘You’re a shameless flatterer.’

‘It’s not flattery if it’s true,’ he says, and she smiles.

‘Thank you. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s have dinner.’

‘All right,’ he says, and they kiss again, lightly, before heading inside.


	32. Chapter 32

She lies awake in bed after dinner. Unfortunately they were stuck with the room with two twin beds, and even though they made it work after dinner, when they came together… she blushes, even though it’s dark, even though Lucas is asleep and they are alone. The bed creaked when they made love--it was quite loud, but she was so caught up with needing him, wanting him, that she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t let him stop. But now… what if someone heard them? Too late to worry about it, she reminds herself. And besides the bed, they were quiet.

She’s lucky to have met Lucas all those years ago. Lucky that they fell in love with each other. Lucky that the long-distance part of their relationship ended with his move here. And she’s so lucky that he wants to stay in New York, that he wants them to make their home there. She loves Paris, of course, but Manhattan is home.

Thinking of Paris makes her think about her father--of Ben, that is. Not her father. He’ll be here next week. He’s coming up to New Haven to see her. She’s nervous. They’ve never really gotten along, but now at least it should be easier. She knows there’s a reason, even if he’s unaware of it.

God, her mother. She’d kept this secret for decades, only telling Mike and Liz Rodgers. And then Mike wasn’t there for her for years. Both her mother and Mike said that they spent time together every month until she was four. What happened after that? Who stopped those visits? Because the next time she saw him she was six, so for two years… two years passed and they had no contact. Why? And how could her mother have looked at her every day and known that she was the only one who loved her daughter? She still believes that this is the case. If he’d cared, he would have made things work. He would have fought to see her. And even if he didn’t care about her… if he really loved Mom, he shouldn’t have done all the things that he did.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever forgive him. She’ll try to move past it, at least, because if he’s back, she doesn’t want to give him an excuse to go away again. But maybe he’s just spent this time looking for excuses. Maybe he does want to go… maybe he didn’t know how to get himself out of the situation he’s found himself in.

 

She closes her eyes and tries to go to sleep, but sleep eludes her. She has too much to think about. What’s going to happen with them? Mom said that Mike told her he’d found a new apartment. That he wanted a separation. So why is he here now? She’d hoped that he’d come back and be with her, be her husband--that’s why she asked Chrissy to ask Katy to call him. But it doesn’t seem like they are back together. They’ve been stiff and awkward around each other, and the only time he’s touched her that she’s seen is when he rested his hand on her shoulder tonight in the car. But then he’d dropped his hand quickly and he hadn’t even looked at her.

What are they doing now? Are they both lying awake in bed, silent, each on their own sides? Are they speaking about what’s happened, and what will happen next?

What will happen next?

She’s not going to sleep tonight, she knows, so she reaches down for her purse and pulls out one of her mother’s journals. She’s brought them all with her--she wants to continue reading them--and she makes a little fort as she used to do when she was little to make sure her mother couldn’t see that the light was still on when she wanted to read late. She turns on the flashlight on her phone, opens the journal, and begins to read.

_We are going to Bermuda this weekend for just over a week and I cannot wait. We really need some time alone together--work has been very busy this past month. It feels like ages since we've been to bed._

_She feels her cheeks burning and she hopes that her mother doesn't go into detail._

_But we’ll have plenty of time in Bermuda. Mike has been… different lately, more affectionate than ever--and he's very affectionate always. But he rarely tells me he loves me and he has so often over the past couple of weeks… maybe something else will happen on this trip._

_I want him to propose. I thought that he might when we went to Ireland for his birthday in 1993--in all those bed and breakfasts we'd needed to pretend we were married so we could actually share a room--and he seemed to revel in it. He kept calling me “Mrs. Logan” with the biggest smile on his face… and then last year, too, I thought he might at Christmas… but maybe this trip is when he will. I want to marry him. I want to be his wife. I want to have children… he will be the most amazing father._

_We talked about having children once, the first time we went out to Gin Lane together, and he hasn't mentioned it since. What if he's changed his mind? What if that's why he hasn't proposed? I want to be a mother. I want to be his wife._

She closes her eyes. Her mother did get what she wanted, eventually, but… was that enough for her? She turns the page.

_If he doesn’t propose on this trip, I suppose we’ll have to talk about it. We’ve been together nearly four years now… I want us to belong to each other officially. I want people to know… I’m tired of pretending we are only colleagues. I want us to share our lives fully…_

_What if he doesn’t propose, and we have the conversation we’ve never had--about where this is going--and he tells me he doesn’t want to marry me? That he doesn’t want to get married, that he doesn’t want children? What next, if that happens?_

_No. I can’t think about that. Because he’ll probably propose…_

Her mother ended the entry there. God, the doubt radiating off the page… she feels awful for her mother, who had not had the security she has with Lucas.

She turns the page.

_I don’t even know how to begin this. I don’t know how to write this down._

_We were at work this morning and this ADA, Sherri West, was participating in the interrogation, and after it finished she said to Mike--we’d been late to work because we were… she said to him ‘Well, I suppose I’ll forgive you for being late if you take me out to dinner. After all, you never called me that time you were my witness two years ago and we… celebrated…’_

_And then she left and Mike came out of the interrogation room and I made some excuse and left… I went home and I wept for hours and then he finally came home, he finally was there, and I needed him to explain…_

_He told me that it was after Phil was shot, after I was--he said it was one time, that it hadn’t happened before or since. That it didn’t mean anything. He didn’t apologize. And I told him I wanted him to go--because I needed some time, because I couldn’t process this and I didn’t want to say something I’d regret--and he said that he’d get his things. And he did, he packed up everything, he took everything away, he left…_

_He left me._

_I don’t know what else to write._

_Oh God,_ she thinks to herself. _Oh, Mom, poor you._

_He punched a politician today. In front of a hundred people, and reporters… I saw it on the news. I don’t know what will happen to him… I didn’t think he cared. Because… oh, God, I was so wrong about what he felt for me, how could I have written that I thought he was going to propose on our trip when he didn’t even bother to fight for me, when he just left… but I guess he cared a little, or was upset, because he wouldn’t have punched this man otherwise…_

_How foolish could I be? How stupid? I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted to marry me. I thought he wanted us to spend our lives together, that he wanted to have children with me, that he was in love with me… how could I have been so stupid?_

She can’t read any more of this. It’s so painful to see her mother’s grief, to see the ink smeared where she’d cried, how she’s going through this again, with so much else happening too… she closes the journal, puts it back in her purse, and turns off her flashlight. She lays back down and closes her eyes and this time she drifts off to sleep.

 

She’s groggy in the morning, her head feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and neither the scalding hot shower in the women’s bathroom nor the three cups of coffee she drinks do anything to dispel this feeling. She, Lucas, Eliza, and Kip are out on the porch; her grandmother, Peter, and Miranda are inside with Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Teddy. Mike is taking Sadie for a walk and Mom is on the phone.

‘How are you feeling?’ Eliza asks her.

‘Strange,’ she admits, picking up her coffee cup again. ‘I just can’t believe he’s gone.’

‘Me neither,’ Eliza says.

She takes another sip of coffee and looks out to the water. Across the Sound is Southerly. She just wants to be there, she thinks. On the Selkie with Grandfather, getting ready to cruise for the afternoon. She loved sailing with him. He was a man of few words but they didn’t need words to communicate, especially when sailing.

She just can’t believe he’s gone. Lucas senses her shift in mood and rests his hand on her back.

The screen door to the porch swings open and her mother appears. ‘We’ll be leaving in five minutes,’ she tells them.

‘All right,’ Eliza says, and she nods her mother nods in response and lets the door swing close again.

‘I should get my things,’ she says.

‘Me too,’ her cousin agrees.

‘We’ll wait for you here,’ Lucas tells them.

She squeezes Lucas’s shoulder as she walks past him; she and Eliza walk through the sitting room and upstairs to the second floor.

‘What’s going on with your mom and Mike?’ Eliza asks when they’re out of earshot.

She sighs. ‘I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ her cousin asks.

She shakes her head. ‘Thank you. Not now, but I will when I’m ready.’

‘I’m here when you’re ready,’ she tells her, and pulls her into a hug. ‘It’ll be all right, Caroline.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Let’s go get our things,’ Eliza says, pulling back. ‘I’ll be right back.’

She nods and lets herself into her room, grabbing her purse and her shawl. She takes a look around the room to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything, makes a quick trip to the bathroom, then meets Eliza in the hall.

‘Ready?’ she asks.

‘I’m ready.’

 

She and Lucas ride with Mike and Mom. She sits behind Mike--she’s shorter than Lucas, and Mike pushes the seat back pretty far. From her seat, she can see the way her hands tense in her lap. She’s wearing both her wedding and engagement rings, as she always does, the small diamonds glinting in the morning light. She looks over at Mike’s hand as he raises it to adjust the mirror and a small shock goes through her when she realizes he’s not wearing his wedding ring. He’s just wearing his Academy ring, on his left hand, and her heart sinks for her mother. _Oh, God._

They get to the church early. Mike parks the car in the field across the street from the church and they trudge across it, then walk up the path to the small building. The church was brought over from England, she remembers, and paid for by the proceeds of a poker game played by Gilded Age tycoons… including her great-great-grandfather. She’s never thought about that before. As they step inside she looks over at her mother, who is walking next to Mike but not touching him.

‘I’m going to go see your grandfather,’ Mom says as they reach the doors leading into the church.

She nods, unsure what to say.

‘I’ll get our pew,’ Mike says. He looks uncomfortable, she thinks. In all her life--all the life that he's’ been a part of, at least--she’s never seen him in a church. Maybe it’s only that.

Mom nods. ‘Caroline, you have your copy of the readings, correct?’

‘Yes,’ she says.

Her mother forces a smile and then walks down the aisle to the casket in front of the altar. It’s open, she notices, and her heart clenches. She wants to say goodbye too, but she’s not sure how she can…

She watches her mother as she kneels in front of the altar, crossing herself, and then walks to her father. Her mother bends down to the casket, reaches down to touch his hand, and speaks quietly to him. She watches her mother as they speak, then she bends, kisses his cheek, and straightens up again, covering her eyes with her hand.

She looks away from Mom and looks at Mike, who has moved at some point during this and gone to the first pew. He doesn’t look at her, and when she makes her way over to him and starts to speak to him he still keeps his head turned away from her.

She thought they were done fighting. Yesterday, when they drove down from Southerly, she’d asked if they were getting back together. And he said that he hoped so, if they could forgive him. And her mother said that she did. So why is he giving her the cold shoulder now, when she needs him?

Her mother’s shoulders slump and she sits down next to Mike.

She looks at Lucas, who has watched everything. He looks at her. ‘It’s fine, darling,’ he tells her. ‘We’ll figure it out later.’

She nods. ‘All right.’

‘Let’s make sure everything’s ready. Where’s your grandmother?’

‘In the back, I think,’ she says.

He nods. ‘Do you want to go see her?’

‘I don’t know that I should,’ she admits. ‘I think I should give her some time alone.’

‘I’m sure she’d love to see you, but yes, maybe she does need some time to herself. I’m sorry this is so difficult.’

‘Me too.’

He rests his hand on her lower back. ‘Do you want to sit down? I don’t think I should sit with you--’

‘No, I need you to,’ she says quickly. ‘Please, Lucas.’

‘There won’t be room,’ he tells her gently. ‘I’ll sit as close as I can, I promise.’

The doors behind them open and they turn to see her great-aunt Janet. She’s wearing head-to-toe black, with a black pillbox hat and a veil like Jackie O, and she has to stifle a giggle at her inappropriate and over-the-top outfit. Lucas’s hand tightens on her back and she can’t look at him because she knows she’ll burst out laughing if she does.

‘Oh, darling,’ her great-aunt begins, sobbing melodramatically. ‘I can’t believe it.’ She lurches forward and embraces her--she can smell a lot of gin and she’s startled, because it’s only ten in the morning. ‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ her great-aunt weeks, and she’s unsure now just how much is due to real feeling, how much to the alcohol, and how much to the fact that she loves causing drama.

‘I know,’ she says, patting her on the back. ‘I’m sad, too.’

‘I have my eulogy all ready,’ Janet says, pulling back. ‘But I’m not sure how I’ll make it through without crying.’

‘Peter’s giving the eulogy,’ she says. ‘That’s what Grandfather wanted.’

Janet frowns. ‘Where is Peter?’

‘I’ll get him,’ she says quickly.

‘Aunt Janet,’ comes her mother’s beloved, necessary voice. ‘Why don’t we get you settled?’

‘I thought I was going to give the eulogy,’ Janet says, her voice whiny.

Her mother step forward and rests her hand on her back for a brief moment before taking Janet’s arm.

‘We’re sitting on the left side of the church, and I thought you could sit in the first pew on the right side,’ her mother continues, guiding her up the aisle. Her voice fades as they walk further away, and she turns to Lucas, who is suppressing his own laughter.

‘God, she’s ridiculous,’ she murmurs, but doesn’t have time to say anything else as the rest of the family starts to arrive.

 

The service begins and she’s sitting in her seat between her mother and grandmother when she realizes she didn’t say goodbye to her grandfather. She looks over at the casket--closed now--and says silently to him, I love you, Grandfather. I miss you.

She looks over at her grandmother, who is sitting next to Miranda, silent and stoic. She doesn’t cry and she knows that she won’t, even though she has her handkerchief tucked into the sleeve of her cardigan. Miranda and Peter, too, are solemn.

She glances at her mother. She has her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Mike, next to her, has left a noticeable gap between them, and he is looking down at his feet. She reaches out and rests her hand on top of her mother’s hands and her mother releases her tight grip to hold her hand. They sit silently until it is her turn to read.

She stands up and walks past Mom and Mike, then up to the lectern. She takes a deep breath and searches the crowd--there are so many people! she thinks in astonishment--for Lucas. She spies him and he gives her an encouraging smile, and then she looks down and reads. The reading is short and when it’s over she’s practically shaking with relief. She makes her way back to her seat and her mother rests her hand on her knee, squeezing tight, before she goes to do her reading.

Her mother’s voice is calm and steady as she reads and she is impressed by how composed Mom is. As Mom reads, she looks at Mike--who is still looking at the floor. She wants to do something--shout at him, shake him, throw the hymnal at him--anything to make him pay attention to his wife.

Mom finishes the reading and steps down. When she takes her seat again, she sits closer to Mike than she had been, and she watches carefully as her mother reaches out to take his hand. She holds her breath, praying for him to reciprocate, to put his arm around her and embrace her, but after an aching moment he moves his hand away from hers. Before she can think, she reaches down and takes her mother’s other hand, squeezing tight.

Miranda finishes her reading--she hadn’t even noticed that she got up--and joins them again while the priest speaks briefly. Then it’s Peter’s turn.

‘Thank you all for coming. As you know, we are here today to celebrate the life of Nicholas Pratt Olivet,’ he begins. ‘I was lucky to have known Nick well. We met on our first day at Deerfield, when we were assigned as roommates, and were best friends from that moment on.

‘Nick was a good man--the best man I've ever known. He was quiet, thoughtful, and smart. He loved his family--his wife, Isobel, who he met at the Harvard/Yale game when we were all freshmen; his daughter Elizabeth and her husband Michael; and his granddaughter Caroline.’

She looks at her mother and Mike--she's reached out to him again, her hand on his knee, and while he doesn't reach out for her he doesn't move away either. Mike is looking at Peter, and so is her mother.

‘I don't know how to describe Nick. There are the basic facts of his life, of course, but they don't capture then man I knew. He was the president of the New York Trust Bank, which was founded by his grandfather. He loved to sail and play squash and tennis. He marched in the 2017 Women’s March and proudly identified as a feminist, even though this wasn’t something men of our generation--or many men now, unfortunately--would say. He was someone who tried to live his life as best he could by being there for others.

‘I'm sure you all have your own stories about how Nick has touched your lives. I have many myself. He was a person who cared deeply for others and loved his family and friends. He will be--he is already--very missed.’

Peter steps down. It was a short but touching eulogy, and as he rejoins them she realizes that he's crying. Miranda is too, and her grandmother, and she feels her own tears start to well up. Her grandmother is pulling out her handkerchief and wiping her eyes, and Miranda is too, while Peter rests his head in his hands and sobs. She can’t look at them--she brushes her tears away, wishing she’d brought tissues--and looks to her mother, who will have them. Her mother is crying too, into a tissue, and finally--finally! she thinks with relief--Mike has his arm around her.

She touches her mother’s knee. ‘Can I have a tissue?’ she whispers.

Her mother looks up and nods, handing her one. She dabs the tears away, watching but not hearing the priest speak, and then everyone is standing and she crumples the damp tissue in her fist.

The priest says, ‘I am told that the burial is for family only. There will be a reception, beginning in an hour, at the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club. All are welcome.’

The organist begins to play and she finds her hymnal, turning the pages to the appropriate hymn. She tries to sing, but she can’t, and instead she follows along. And then it is over, and she is urged forward, following her grandmother. Somehow she finds herself in Mike’s car, with Lucas next to her, thank God, and Mike and her mother in the front.

She leans back against the seat and closes her eyes as they start to drive, following the hearse. Lucas reaches out and takes her hand. She squeezes it, keeping her eyes closed.

‘It was a nice service,’ she says.

‘Mmhmm,’ her mother says, and she can hear the suppressed grief in her voice.

‘It was good,’ Mike says, and she opens her eyes in surprise, startled that he’s speaking. She watches him look at her mother, who looks back at him, and then he looks away again.

They arrive at the cemetery and Mike parks the car along the side of the road. They are in a quiet part of this beautiful cemetery--her father’s family plot. They follow the casket to the open grave and stand. She stands between Lucas and her mother. Mike is next to Mom, and she reaches out for his hand, which he takes. Thank God, she thinks again, and squeezes Lucas’s hand.

There is a short prayer by the graveside, then her grandmother steps up and drops a handful of dirt on his grave, then Peter, then Miranda. Then it’s her mother’s turn, then Mike’s, then hers.

 _Goodbye_ , she thinks. _I love you._


	33. Chapter 33

Sitting in the cab heading to the wake sets him off again. How’s he supposed to stand through this, pretending that everything’s okay, facing Liz’s family? He feels his mood start to darken as soon as they pull up to Inis Fada, the house where Nick grew up. He thought it was going to be back to normal, especially after this morning, making love… and Caroline in the car later, asking if they were back together, Liz saying she wanted to be, that she forgave him… they get out of the cab, and Liz pays and tips the cabbie, and they head inside.

The wake is a literal nightmare. All these people with their Lockjaw accents, talking like they’re sneering at each other, this house… bigger even than Southerly, which he thought was pretty massive… it’s nothing compared to this. And then Teddy and Chrissy get here, and they’re both visibly startled to see him. He flinches back from their response and he’s grateful that Liz isn’t there when they arrive, because he’s embarrassed by his behavior when he saw Chrissy last.

Teddy goes to get them drinks and Chrissy says, ‘I’m glad you did the right thing.’

For some reason that pisses him off even more, but the last thing he wants to do is get into this now. He nods tightly. ‘I need another drink,’ he says, and heads to the bar.

He stays away as long as he can. He has two triple Bushmills, which burn going down, fueling his frustration. He watches Caroline leave and then realizes he has to go back in to find his wife.

She’s in the drawing room, talking to Teddy and Chrissy, and they look up when he steps into the room. He nods to Liz’s cousins and the other people in the room and walks along the edges of the room to reach them. When he does, he leans against the wall and stays silent. Liz reaches out and touches his elbow lightly, but he doesn’t respond, just looks down into his drink. After a moment, she drops her hand and asks Teddy who from the bank will be coming.

Caroline, Lucas, Toby, and Owen appear about fifteen minutes later. He watches them--Lucas speaks with Isobel, who actually smiles at him, and Caroline talks to Peter. And then Bill shows up and starts talking to Isobel and the situation immediately tenses. He can tell something’s wrong, but he hasn't been listening, and then Teddy goes over and brings Bill away, and Chrissy and Liz join the group around Isobel. He doesn't know what to do, so he just stays where he is and takes a sip of his drink.

His wife is agitated--she rarely gestures when speaking, but she is now, and the line of her back is tense. Despite that, and despite his frustration with her and the situation, he's hit with a wave of need for her. He's slept with way more than his share of women but even the best of them paled in comparison to what he had with Liz. Even having sex with Carolyn didn't approach it.

Liz turns away and walks back to him. Even now, frustrated with her, he loves watching her walk. She is elegant and graceful even in her sadness. She reaches his side and says, ‘Bill is upset because my father wouldn’t let Toby work in the bank, so he decided now would be an appropriate time to ask my mother to overrule him.’

He winces. They’d all heard Bill’s rants about Nick’s decision, and honestly--he agreed with Nick. Nepotism isn’t a good thing ever, but definitely not when the person isn’t qualified for anything. He admired Nick for sticking to his principles.

‘Teddy and Chrissy brought the big car, so we’ll get a ride back with them--if that’s okay,’ she says. ‘We can take a cab if you prefer.’

He shakes his head. ‘Might as well go back with them.’

She nods slowly. ‘Then we can have dinner when we get back. We can eat with them or alone, whatever you prefer.’

He rubs his eyes. Honestly, he just wants to get back to their room and… he realizes she’s waiting patiently for an answer. ‘Uh, let’s eat by ourselves,’ he says, thinking, at least that won’t take too long. She smiles broadly and his heart clenches at the sight.

‘They’re probably waiting for us,’ she tells him, trying and failing to suppress her joy. _Christ_ , he thinks. _The burden of being responsible for her happiness…_

‘Okay,’ he says, and they head out to the front door.

They are waiting, and they get into the car--Caroline, Lucas, and Kip in the back, Eliza on one side, Liz in the middle, and he on the other, then Chrissy and Teddy in the front. Liz’s hip nudges against his as Teddy drives. A conversation about Bill’s behavior is curtailed by Liz’s interjection and the pressure of his hand on her shoulder; he drops it as soon as she stops talking. He just wants the quiet.

When they arrive at the club, he tells Liz that he’ll take Sadie for a walk and then join her for dinner. She nods and he heads up the stairs to get their dog while everyone else goes into the dining room.

He takes Sadie on a quick walk around the club and down to the boatyard and back. After he returns to their room, he feeds her and refills her water bowl before heading back downstairs. The dining room is filled, but Liz has a small table for the two of them away from her family, tucked back in the corner. She’s ordered him a Bushmills and ordered a Southside for herself.

‘Sadie’s all set,’ he tells her, sliding into his seat.

‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘Caroline wants her to stay with her tonight, so I’ll bring her into Caroline’s room after dinner.’

‘Good,’ he says. That way they’ll have some privacy.

They order; crab cakes to start, steak as their entree. They sit in silence, each avoiding each other’s gaze. He’s thinking about tonight, and how he needs to apologize, and what he needs to say… he has to apologize for so much.

When they’ve finished their drinks and their dinner, Liz signs the chit and they say goodnight. Chrissy and Teddy have gone upstairs; so have Peter, Miranda, and Isobel. Caroline, Lucas, Eliza, and Kip are in the bar, and they say goodnight. Liz collects Caroline’s key and she brings Sadie into their room, then comes back downstairs and returns it. With final hugs, they finally go up to their room.

When they enter their room she takes off her heels immediately with a sigh of relief. He locks the door behind them.

‘Can we talk?’ he asks as she sits down on the bed, rubbing her feet.

She looks up at him, surprised, and nods. He sits down on the chair for the vanity and rubs his eyes.

‘Do you remember that song?’ he asks her at last. ‘That Joni Mitchell one you like. The one where the guy asks the woman to love him, to be with him, even though he can be cruel…’

‘Yes,’ she says softly. ‘I remember.’

‘That’s how I feel right now, Lizzie. I’ve been cruel to you--Christ knows you didn’t deserve that--but I’m here, and I’m askin’ you to love me, I’m beggin’ you to--please love me. Please let me be with you. I’m not a saint but I love you.’

‘Mike,’ she says, and he looks up and meets her eyes. ‘I love you. You know that. I’ve always loved you. I just--I need you to stop running away. If we have problems then we need to talk about them. I just don’t think I could survive you leaving again.’

‘I understand,’ he replies quietly. He does. For her, the leaving has always been the most painful part of their fights, the most hurtful. And even if it’s easier for him to leave rather than face up to what’s happened, it’s never easier in the long run to pick up the pieces. ‘I won’t leave again,’ he promises, and he sees something in her expression ease.

‘Thank you,’ she says, and leans forward to rest her hand on his. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ he says, and turns his hand to grasp hers. ‘Ready for bed?’

She nods. ‘Let’s shower first, though. I need to unwind a bit.’

He nods. ‘I’ll get the shower going.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ she says, stretching.

He gets out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom, turning on the water in the very small shower. As the water heats up, he gets two towels out and lays down the bathmat.

‘It’s ready,’ he says, and Liz gets out of bed slowly, yawning. He gets into the shower first, then she follows, closing the door behind her. There’s barely any room but thankfully there’s no awkwardness as their bodies remember what to do. The shower is a bit bigger than the one on the Selkie and they’ve showered together there dozens of times. She rinses the shampoo out of her hair--he’s done that for her before, recreating that scene from Out of Africa when they were on their honeymoon, which she loved--as he gets out and dries off. He hands her a towel when she finishes and turns off the water. They dry off--Liz towel-dries her hair--and then look at each other.

‘Ready for bed?’ she suggests, and he nods.

She steps around him and out of the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers to hand him his boxers. He takes them and puts them on, watching as she finds a pair of panties and steps into them. She bends down again and pulls out a nightgown, but he takes it out of her hand. She looks at him, confused.

‘Can we just sleep like this?’ he asks her, setting the nightgown down. He puts his hands on her hips and brings her towards him.

‘All right,’ she says, looping her arms loosely around his waist.

He kisses her forehead and releases her and they climb into bed together. He wraps his arms around her again, settling her back against his chest, and closes his eyes. He feels her sigh, her body relaxing against his, and he kisses the nape of her neck.

‘I’d really like our new place to have outdoor space,’ she says sleepily. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, thinking about it. They could have a grill, have drinks outside after work… ‘that’s a good idea.’

She pulls his arms tighter around her. ‘Good.’

He buries his face in her hair and takes a deep breath.

‘I love you,’ she tells him. ‘So much.’

‘Me too.’

 

When he wakes up in the morning, he’s antsy as hell again. He doesn’t like going to church. He hasn’t set foot in one since his father died in 1997. He didn’t even go to Caroline’s First Communion, or her Confirmation… yeah, no wonder she thinks he doesn’t care about her, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t want to be in one now.

Lizzie is still sleeping. She’s curled up on her side, facing away from him, which is a change. They always sleep touching each other, but he supposes that after nearly three weeks apart she’s had to change her sleeping patterns.

He looks at the clock. It’s five thirty, so they have plenty of time, and he needs some reassurance. He starts slowly, running his hand down her side, feeling her breathing change. He moves closer, running his hand over her hip, moving lower. She starts to press unconsciously up into his touch, and he props himself up to watch her. Her eyes are still closed, and she’s still asleep, but she’s starting to respond--her lips parting, her cheeks flushing. In their life together, he’s woken her up like this only a handful of times, even though he enjoys it, even though she loves this.

He eases her onto her back and gently, carefully removes her underwear. He’s glad she isn’t wearing anything else, and that the underwear is skimpy lace and easy to remove without disturbing her. He tosses them aside and moves the blankets away from her body, giving him better access. He starts trailing kisses down her body, beginning at her collarbone, and still she stays asleep even as she moans softly. He grins against her stomach, moving lower and lower…

She wakes up with a gasp and then moans again as he continues his ministrations.

‘Mike--’ she whispers, her hands burying themselves in his hair.

He ignores her, continuing to caress her, feeling her body tense and listening to her heavy breathing. She grips his hair tightly as she starts to come, her legs wrapping around him, her heels pressing into his back as she arches and lets out a long, low moan.

How many times have they done this? he wonders. He loves making her feel good and God, she’s amazing and so responsive. When she finally falls back on the bed, panting, she releases him and he lifts his head.

‘Mike,’ she whispers and he smiles.

‘Good morning.’

She laughs. ‘Good morning.’

He joins her and she snuggles close to him.

‘What time is it?’ she asks, and he lifts his head.

‘Quarter to six.’

She kisses his chest. ‘Good. We have plenty of time.’

 

They get out of bed eventually and take turns in the shower, then dress. He’s in the same suit as last night, with his white shirt and a black tie he borrowed from Nick. It feels strange, dressing like this, and he’s nervous. Liz is too, he can tell.

They go downstairs and have breakfast with her cousins. It’s a quiet meal; no one really talks. The kids come down and have breakfast on the porch and he takes Sadie for a walk again. When he gets back, he brings her upstairs, feeds her, and then joins his wife and daughter.

‘Ready?’ he asks them as Lucas joins them.

They nod and he nods in response before they head to the car. He drives, hand tapping the steering wheel. Everyone is silent.

When they arrive at the church Liz goes to say goodbye to her father while he finds a seat in the first pew to the left. A tight pit of dread has formed in his stomach and he just--can’t. When Liz joins him, he doesn’t talk to her, doesn’t respond when she touches his shoulder. He doesn’t want to infect what they have with being here, in this place… the scent of it is killing him. Old prayerbooks and beeswax…

He tries to focus on his breathing throughout the service. Breathing in, breathing out. He looks down at his feet. After Liz gets up and does her reading, she sits down close to him, her hip pushing against his, and she puts her hand on his. He moves his hand away--he can’t, not right now--and he feels her shoulders slump. He can’t help it.

But then Peter gives his eulogy and he feels his wife start to cry and--the last thing he wants is for her to cry. Tentatively, not wanting to upset the precarious balance of today, he puts his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him immediately and he closes his eyes, not wanting to cry too.

The service is finally over and he makes for the exit as quickly as he can, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air. Liz is close on his heels, taking his hand, and Caroline and Lucas join them too.

‘Do you want me to drive?’ Liz asks him. He nods and hands her the keys. ‘We should head over now.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Let’s go.’

Liz drives to the beautiful cemetery, parking by the hearse on the side of the small road leading through the land. They make their way to the graveside and he looks around--this is the Pratt family plot, he realizes, Nick’s mother’s family. The casket is there, waiting to be lowered, and the priest from earlier says a brief prayer. Then Isobel drops a handful of dirt on top of the lowered casket, then Peter, Miranda, Liz, and then it’s his turn.

 _Goodbye, Nick_ , he thinks, and the dirt makes a hollow thump as it lands. He turns and looks at his wife, who is standing next to her mother. He goes and stands next to her, taking her hand. She squeezes it tight and he feels a little better.

 

He drives them back to the club after Nick is buried. Caroline is crying quietly in the backseat, Lucas is comforting her, and Liz is silent in the passenger seat, looking out the window.

He just wants to be with her, alone, just the two of them. He doesn’t know what the plan is for tonight--he thinks they’re heading back to the city, but he’s not sure. They might be heading back up to Southerly. The problem is, he doesn’t have any other clothes. He’s gonna have to go down to his apartment and pick up a couple things if they head back to the city.

He sighs and turns off to the club, finding a parking spot with difficulty. The church had been full too--Nick was very loved, that’s clear.

He parks the car and Caroline and Lucas get out first, thanking him and heading inside. Liz gets out too and looks over at him.

‘You okay?’ he asks her.

‘Mmhmm,’ she murmurs, walking around the car to his side. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head.

‘I love you, Lizzie,’ he offers, and she nods against his chest.

‘I love you too.’

 

They go inside and are immediately separated. He heads to the bar, intending to get them drinks and then find her again, and he orders a gin martini for Liz and a Bushmills for himself when someone steps next to him and says, ‘Mike.’

He turns and sees Liz’s best friend Nick. _Shit_ , he thinks. Liz has a lot of “best friends”--she'd told him before that it was a tier, not a person--but Nick was probably the person she was closest to, besides him.

‘Nick.’

Nick leans against the bar. ‘So where were you?’

He barely stops from sighing. ‘Out of town.’

‘Yes, I know that. Where?’

‘Seriously, Nick--’

‘You have no idea what it was like for her,’ Nick says in a harsh undertone. ‘How devastated she was to wake up to an empty bed, to have you text her hours later saying that you were going to be “out of town” for a while--’

He’s going to go on for a while, he knows, so he cuts him off. ‘Look, it’s between us, okay?’

‘No, it's not okay,’ Nick snaps. ‘Liz and I have been friends for more than fifty years--’

‘I know,’ he says, sighing. ‘I know.’

‘I don't want her to be hurt,’ Nick says, stopping short when someone else comes up to the bar. Thankfully his drinks are ready, so he collects them, nods at Nick, and leaves.

He makes his way through the crowd, looking for his wife. There are so many people here--a few he recognizes from Nick and Isobel’s Boxing Day parties, a few of Liz’s relatives, and many more he’s never seen before. He finally spies Liz standing next to her mother in the far corner of the room and heads over to her.

She looks up at him with relief as he finally reaches her side, accepting the martini he hands her with even greater relief. She leans into him as her mother converses with yet another WASPy couple.

‘You okay?’ he asks quietly.

‘Mmhmm,’ she murmurs. ‘Just ready for this to be over.’

He nods. ‘What’s the plan after?’

‘We’ll head back to the city. Mummy is going to stay with Peter and Miranda for a bit.’

‘That’s good,’ he says, looking over at Isobel. She looks weary with grief.

‘My parents’ lawyer told me that we need to discuss my father’s will,’ she says. ‘He suggested meeting tomorrow at his office.’

He nods slowly. ‘Okay. What’s there to discuss?’

She shrugs. ‘I’m not sure. Everything goes to Mummy, I think, besides a few small things that will come to us and Caroline and the other family members--specific bequests, you know.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘What time?’

‘Ten, he said. Is that all right?’

‘Sure. I have to go back to my--to the other apartment,’ he corrects quickly, ‘pick up some clothes.’

‘Can you do that tomorrow afternoon? There are still some of your things at home--stuff that was at the dry cleaner’s, in the laundry room…’

‘Okay,’ he says cautiously. ‘Sure.’

He feels her relax against him. ‘Good. Thank you.’

‘Sure,’ he says. She reaches down and squeezes his hand tightly. After a moment, he squeezes back.

 

A little while later, Miranda speaks.

‘Thank you all for coming,’ she begins. ‘Nick would be touched to see you all here. We are, too.’ There’s a murmur of agreement from the crowd. ‘Nick wanted this to be a celebration. I hope you all feel free to share your memories and stories of Nick, especially the happy ones. Thank you, again, for coming.’

Miranda steps down, and then Teddy starts to tell a story about Nick, then the floodgates have opened and many people share--from his secretary at the bank to a childhood friend to his nieces and nephews… it’s overwhelming, how many lives Nick touched. The good that he’d done.

Finally people start to leave. Liz and Isobel stand with Peter and Miranda, saying goodbye. Liz has had one drink, while he’s had several--she’ll need to drive back, he realizes, feeling bad that he didn’t even think of that.

Everyone is gone at last except the family. Liz and Caroline sit on the piano bench and Caroline starts picking out a song on the piano--In My Life, by the Beatles.

‘Nick’s favorite,’ Miranda murmurs from the sofa next to him. Isobel is watching them, her expression soft and loving, and he watches Caroline look at her mother.

‘There are places I remember…’ Liz begins to sing, and he’s startled. He’s never heard her sing before, he realizes suddenly, not really--just muffled when she’s in the shower. And she has a beautiful voice, soft and rich and full. He watches silently and she sings, her eyes closed, singing unselfconsciously. Caroline accompanies her, and for the last line joins in. ‘In my life,’ they sing, ‘I love you more.’

He blinks away sudden, surprising tears. Thirty years ago he never would’ve been caught dead crying, but lately…

What else did he miss, when he wasn’t there?

Lizzie’s filled him in on a lot of what he missed when Caroline was growing up, but now he’s realizing there’s even more he doesn’t know. When did Caroline start taking piano lessons? What lullabies did Lizzie used to sing to her?

‘Mike.’

He opens his eyes and looks up at Liz.

‘Are you ready to go?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, rubbing his hand over his face. ‘Just gonna use the bathroom.’

She nods. ‘I’ll bring our stuff down to the car and get Sadie. Caroline and Lucas are heading back with Peter, Miranda, and my mother.’

‘Okay,’ he says, standing up. He’s feeling a bit fuzzy and definitely exhausted. It’s late, almost five, and he just wants to get home and have dinner and go to bed.

He uses the bathroom and meets his wife and the rest of her family by the door. There’s a flurry of goodbyes and then he makes his way to the car, Liz following him. She lets Sadie in the backseat and then climbs into the driver’s side. He’s already in the passenger seat, leaning back, his eyes closed.

He must fall asleep because when he opens his eyes Liz is turning onto their block. She pulls into the garage and parks in his space, next to her car, and turns off the car. She turns to look at him, meeting his eyes.

‘Do you want to order in or go out for dinner?’ she asks.

‘Let’s just order in,’ he says, yawning. He rubs his eyes.

‘Okay,’ she says. She unbuckles the seatbelt and opens her door. He does the same, collecting their bags while she gets Sadie. They make their way to the elevator and take it up to their floor.

‘I’ll take Sadie for a walk,’ his wife says. ‘What would you like for dinner?’

He shrugs. ‘Sushi, maybe?’

‘Sounds good. Would you mind ordering?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Spicy tuna, salmon avocado, and dragon roll for you?’

‘Yes, please,’ she says, shooting him a smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll be back shortly.’

She collects Sadie and heads back out of the apartment. He places the order for their dinner, then wanders back to their bedroom, looking around.

She’s replaced the pictures he took with new ones--ones from her photo albums, some recent ones--and she’s obviously tried to make it seem like he was still there.

He closes his eyes. God, he’s really hurt her. He’ll make it up to her though, he vows silently. He’ll turn his his notice to the landlord tomorrow and pick up his things after this meeting with the lawyer. And then they can start looking for their own place.

He hears the door open, and Liz speaking to Sadie. He looks around the room one more time before going back out to join her.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this fic!! It definitely took on a life of its own while I wrote it. I hope to revisit some of the storylines that haven't been wrapped up in a later fic.
> 
> Thank you so much to [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake) for the beautiful fanmix! You can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049676/chapters/47480677).

They take the subway down to Wall Street, where her parents’ lawyer has his offices. Mark Thorpe is the son of her father’s old Deerfield classmate. His father was their lawyer for years, until his retirement, when Mark took over.

Her mother, Peter, Miranda, Caroline, and her mother’s nephews arrive after them. Her cousins are asked to wait in the conference room while the rest of them--including Lucas, at Caroline’s request--meet Mark in his office. He greets them all and then they settle down, Mark sits behind his desk and opens up a file with her father’s will.

‘So, we have a few things to discuss before we meet with the rest of your family,’ Mark begins. Mike squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, so grateful that he’s here, back with her… 

Last night, after dinner, he told her that he’d tell his landlord that he was moving out and bring his things back this afternoon. She’s so relieved… 

‘Liz and Caroline--the bulk of Nick’s estate goes to you. This includes most of his liquid assets and the properties.’

She feels her jaw drop. A quick glance over at her daughter sees that she’s in the same condition.

‘But Mummy--’ she begins, looking at her mother, who shakes her head.

‘No, your father and I discussed it,’ her mother says. ‘There’s no point in you two paying estate taxes twice. I have my own money, which will also come to you.’

She nods slowly. She doesn’t want to look at Mike yet.

‘The properties--the apartment where you live now, Liz and Mike, and then Inis Fada--’

‘Wait, what do you mean, Inis Fada?’ Caroline interjects.

‘Janet wanted to put the house up for sale about twenty years ago,’ Mummy says. ‘So your father purchased it so that it could remain in the family.’

‘Okay…’ Caroline says slowly.

‘So Janet has the right to live in the house for the rest of her lifetime, and there’s a trust that your father created to pay for the repairs and taxes for the house, but after that it will pass to you both,’ Mark finishes.

She’s--overwhelmed by this information. She darts a glance at Mike, who looks shell-shocked.

‘Both properties are divided equally between you, as are the assets you inherit.’ He tells them the amount of money they’ll inherit and her jaw drops open. She had no idea her father had so much money. She knew her parents were well-off, of course, but… 

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mike blurts out. She feels exactly the same.

‘Caroline, your assets will be in a trust until you turn thirty. You’ll have full access to the income, which will be in the mid- to high-six figures. Liz, your share of your inheritance is not in a trust.’

She looks at her husband. All she can think is, _well, I suppose we won’t need to get a mortgage._

Mark continues to talk, explaining how her father’s portion of the bank will go to her mother, then to them. He explains how the inheritance tax will be paid and a whole host of other things she can’t think about now. Finally Mark stops talking.

‘Do you have any questions?’

Caroline shakes her head. ‘I can’t think of anything else right now.’

‘Liz?’

‘Uh, no,’ she says, still startled.

‘All right. Well, if you do, just call the office and set up an appointment.’

Mark stands and they stand too, a beat behind. As Make leads the way out the door, she walks over to her mother.

‘Mummy--’

‘Your father wanted you both taken care of,’ her mother whispers softly, wrapping her arms around her. She returns her embrace. ‘This is what we both wanted, darling.’

‘Okay,’ she whispers in response.

Her mother kisses her cheek. ‘Let’s finish this, all right, darling?’

She nods and follows her mother out of the room. Mike is waiting for her and she takes his hand.

‘This is insane, Lizzie,’ he whispers. ‘Christ, I had no idea they… that it was so much.’

She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I didn’t know it was that much.’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘I don’t even know how to feel about this.’

‘I know,’ she agrees. ‘Well, we won’t need to get a mortgage, at least.’

He chuckles, surprised. ‘Yeah.’

‘And, you know, we’ll set the bulk of it aside for Caroline and her children.’

He nods slowly, seeming to be more at peace with it now that she’s suggested that. ‘Yeah. That’s true.’

‘Mike, Liz,’ Peter says, sticking his head around the corner. ‘We’re ready.’

They follow Peter down the hall. She can't believe this… all this for her and for Caroline… she had no idea her father had so much money. Of course she knew her parents had money--the principal of her own trust fund is substantial, but only a fraction of what she’s just been given, as is Caroline’s, but this… and the apartment, and Inis Fada, and the bank… and then eventually her mother’s money, and Peter and Miranda’s… well, Caroline will never need to worry about money, nor will her children or her children’s children. That's a blessing in and of itself. But it's still an enormous surprise. 

They take seats at the conference table. She sits next to her daughter, who is next to her mother. Mike sits next to her and presses his knee against hers comfortingly. She rests her hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly. Thank God he’s here.

Mark goes through the legalese, then says, ‘We’ve already discussed the disbursement of most of Nick’s liquid assets. Twenty percent of the bank--and he owned thirty-four percent, with thirty-four percent also owned by Peter, and thirty-two percent by other investors--will go to Isobel. That’s leaves fourteen percent of the bank, which Nick determined would be split equally between Peter and Teddy.’

Peter looks unsurprised and Teddy looks startled.

‘That’s--that’s not right,’ Teddy protests. ‘That should go to Liz and Isobel and Caroline--’

‘No, Teddy,’ she says. She isn’t surprised either. ‘You’ve worked at the bank for so long, you deserve it.’

Her cousin meets her eyes and offers her a smile. She returns it--he does deserve it. How long has he been there now, nearly twenty years? And he owns three percent of the bank, now ten, and he deserves that.

‘Nick left you each five hundred thousand dollars,’ Mark tells her cousins. They all look happy and touched, except Bill, she notes, who is scowling. She looks away from him and back to Mark.

There are a few small bequests, then Mark says, ‘and Mike, Nick left you the Selkie and a substantial portion of his liquid assets.’ When he gives the number, about half of what her father has left her, her husband coughs in surprise.

‘What?’ he asks, startled.

‘Of course it will be less than that, after estate tax,’ Mark finishes. ‘But still substantial.’

Mike is still staring at Mark in shock and she catches her mother’s gaze. She nods and smiles softly. She squeezes Mike’s knee and he lowers his hand automatically to take hers. He squeezes back and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. _Well,_ she thinks to herself. _This changes things._ For the first time they’re going to be on equal, or relatively equal, financial footing. Maybe this will make things easier.

‘That’s about it,’ Mark says. ‘There are a few things for Nick’s nieces and nephews, but that covers the bulk of the estate, and the other recipients will be informed by letter as to their bequests. If there are any questions, please feel free to call me, and I will do my best to answer them.’

‘Thank you,’ Peter says, and Mark nods and exits.

Caroline turns to them, the surprise of these bequests still written across her face.

‘Darling,’ she says. ‘Do you want to come home with us for the afternoon?’

To her surprise, and to Mike’s, she nods. ‘Yes, I have some questions about… all this.’

‘All right,’ she says, and grasps her daughter’s hand, then looks past her to her mother and godparents.

‘We’re going to go home,’ Miranda says. ‘We’d love to see you all for dinner tomorrow. Lucas too,’ she tells Caroline.

‘Yeah, that sounds great,’ Mike says.

Bill storms out of the room and she looks across the table to Teddy, who lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

‘Teddy, I’d like to make an appointment with you to discuss investments,’ she says. ‘Next week, perhaps?’

‘Sure,’ her cousin says easily. ‘Just call the office.’

She nods and looks at her husband. ‘Ready to go?’ she asks her daughter and Mike.

‘Yeah,’ he says. There’s a rush of goodbyes, and she squeezes her mother tight, and then they go downstairs and find a cab.

 

The cab ride is filled with conversation--Caroline says she wants to make an appointment with Teddy too, which is good, because she would have suggested that herself--and Mike, who is still stunned and tries to protest.

Caroline finally shuts him down. ‘He loved you,’ she tells him. ‘He wouldn’t have given you anything if he didn’t want you to have it. The money doesn’t mean anything--it’s just money--but the _Selkie_ … he loved that boat.’

The rest of the cab ride is silent as Mike digests that. The cab pulls up to their building, she pays and tips the driver, and they all get out.

‘I’d like to see how the dress looks on you, Caroline,’ she says as they ride the elevator up to their floor.

Her daughter smiles. ‘All right. I’ll put it on. I found your shoes for that dress too, and the gloves…’

‘Put all of it on,’ she suggests. Caroline smiles.

The elevator arrives on their floor and they step out. She unlocks the door and they step into the apartment.

‘I’m going to get changed,’ Caroline says, and heads down the hall.

She looks at her husband.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Mike tells her. ‘Jesus Christ, Lizzie--’

‘He loved you,’ she tells him. ‘And he wanted to show you that he cared about you.’

He runs a hand over his eyes. ‘I cared about him too.’

‘I know,’ she says softly. ‘And he did, too.’

Suddenly, to her surprise, he embraces her, holding her tight. ‘Christ, Lizzie, I love you,’ he whispers, running a hand down her back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I know,’ she says softly. She kisses his chest.

He lifts her chin up so that he can kiss her, a soft kiss that quickly turns passionate. She presses herself up against him, her blood thrumming in her veins, wanting him and needing him… 

She pulls back, her breath coming quickly, and he grins at her.

‘Later,’ she tells him, and he nods. ‘Let’s go into the living room, have a drink.’

‘Okay,’ he tells her, resting his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the living room. She fights down the urge to shiver. God, she just wants to be in bed with him… she wants to reconnect. She misses him, even after the past few days… 

They have so many things to work through still--his self-destructive behavior, his running away, his unacknowledged belief that he doesn’t deserve them--but they also need to connect, and connecting like this, communicating like this, has always been what they’ve been best at.

‘Lizzie?’ he says, and she blinks and looks up at him. ‘Here’s your wine.’

‘Thanks,’ she tells him, accepting the glass, taking a sip to hide the flush on her face.

He settles next to her on the sofa and wraps his arm around her, taking a sip of his beer.

‘I love you, Mike,’ she says, looking up at him.

‘I love you, honey,’ he tells her. 

They sit in a comfortable silence and then their daughter comes in. Caroline has swept her hair up and put on a pair of pearl earrings and her pearl necklace. She’s wearing elbow-length white gloves and the gown she wore for her debutante ball--white satin with a full but not overly full tulle skirt, with a fitted bodice and a low, scooped neck. She looks stunning.

‘Wow,’ Mike says at last, after Caroline spins slowly. 

‘You look beautiful, sweetheart,’ she tells her daughter, trying not to cry. ‘So grown up.’

She looks at Mike, who looks like the way she feels. ‘You're stunning, Caroline. You look like your Mom.’

Caroline smiles. ‘Thank you. I love this dress.’ She flops down in one of the slipper chairs, spoiling the image of this suddenly adult woman. ‘I can't believe it's only a few months away!’

Her heart aches as she looks at her daughter, this grown-up girl. How is she eighteen? She just wants to go back in time, when Caroline was born, and do it all over again.


End file.
